The Venus Contract
by WarriorLoverInc
Summary: There are some things so secret, so covert and underground, dark and mysterious, that the secret could end a country. With Aquarius, there are no accidents, there is no gossip. There is truth, and nothing more. Look out Scorpia, your double is closing in.
1. Chapter 1: Aquarius

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 1: Aquarius**

There are some things so secret, so covert and underground, dark and mysterious, that the secret could end a country. Not a soul would suspect.

When it sees the light of day, the secret is dismissed as pure gossip or farfetched conspiracy theories. And yet, all the "gossips" meet an unfortunate untimely end. An accident.

But with Aquarius, there are no accidents, there is no gossip. There is truth, and nothing more. An accident, call it what you like, but on the "flip-side," they do not exist.

Aquarius is the most dangerous, most alluring, most confidential organization in the world, unlike its twin.

Look out Scorpia, your double is closing in.

…

Jack ran. She ran through the cold clear night, splashing through puddles without a thought, flitting through the streetlights like an otherworldly specter. Lungs burning, legs cramping, sides aching, wounds throbbing, heart beating wildly, she dashed through the streets of London, not quite sure where she was headed. The only thing she knew to be true in this world full of sick secrets she had been dragged into: she was running in the opposite direction of _them_.

She had to tell Alex! She had to warn him! It had only been a matter of time before something like this had happened again, and she'd bar it from happening to him. Again…

Tears streaked through the mud and blood on her face, stinging the cuts and bruises she had acquired during her captivity. Wild eyes widened slightly as Jack recognized where her legs were taking her, she was on Liverpool Street. All was quiet, empty, bleak. She bowed her head and pushed harder, she didn't have time to gawk!

_Run… Run and tell Alex…!_

Her entirely exhausted mind only had room for those few thoughts. Catching herself as she slipped in a puddle, Jack raised her head searching. There! Right on the corner!

Royal & General Bank stood tall and proud on the corner, like the statue of some long forgotten king. Never slowing, Jack pushed through the glass double doors of the façade, her mind vaguely registering how very odd it was that anything was open this late, even the headquarters of MI6.

A guard and a lady sitting at the desk jumped in surprise as she burst into the lighted building. They both impulsively reached for their guns, wondering why such a dirty and shattered woman should be rushing into a "bank" at midnight.

She stumbled into the lobby, dripping sweat, blood, and mud onto the fancy polished floors. Shivering, she kept on coming, crazy eyes whipping around the room. It was almost as if she were scared of anything she couldn't see, the glass doors and windows. She glanced at the fish tank occupying a corner of the lobby and flinched violently.

Before the guard or receptionist could ask, dead and horrified eyes met the guards' for a single second. "_Aquarius_…" she muttered. Then, she fell to the ground, dead. A scarlet stain leaked through the back of her carrot-orange hair and blood trailed thinly out the side of her still open mouth.

There was nothing but silence, the last tinkles of shattering glass, and the echo of a gunshot for what seemed like eternity.

Suddenly, the receptionists scream then prompt action to faint woke the guard out of his reverie. He swore loudly, jumped behind the front desk (carefully avoiding the unconscious lady behind it) and pressed the panic button. Alarms blared throughout the building, red lights flashed, windows and doors initiated the lockdown sequence, becoming curtained by a metal screen, and all staff and agents in the area were notified of a security breach.

Tonight promised to be long and painful.

…

Across the street from the Royal & General Bank, a figure on the rooftop lowered his sniper rifle, frowning deeply. This had not been part of the plan. Starbright was not supposed to escape, to warn their possible adversary, to end up dead. She was to be quiet bait, a source of intel. Albeit she hadn't been stocked well with the information they wanted, it had been enough.

Silently, the figure stood from its previously stout position. It pulled out a communicator and spoke briefly before sprinting into the night.

Alfonsio had a report to make.

…

Mrs. Jones made a frustrated noise and flipped the page. Frowning, she analyzed the autopsy report before her:

…_has identified some foreign chemicals circulating her system. Several hallucinogens, toxins, and stimulants have been identified. Disturbingly, we have also found traces of several "truth serums"…_

Mrs. Jones bit her lip. Rider's guardian may have not known much about what had gone on with MI6, but she knew all about Rider's missions. That info was sensitive, on a need-to-know basis. She continued skimming:

…_signs of abuse, possibly torture. She was killed by a bullet to the brain, dead before she hit the floor. Psychologists analyzed the tapes of her last minutes from surrounding buildings and the lobby. Showed signs of extreme emotional trauma and suspected psychosis. Identified drugs could be contributing factor…_

She stopped reading as a sudden thought struck her, what would they tell Rider?

Sighing exasperatedly, she filed the folder away for later. Standing from her non-descript desk in her bland office, she walked to the wall opposite and knocked thrice on a large painting of a tree. A black and gray tree.

Her knocks were answered with a quiet beeping noise. The painting swung open to reveal Blunt's office. Any visitor would have thought the same designer had decorated both rooms, they were that similar.

Blunt didn't even bother to look up from his paperwork as Mrs. Jones strode through the hole in the wall. "Jones."

"Blunt," she replied curtly, "I'm sure you know why I'm here."

Now he glanced up, suspicion flickered across his normally stoic face. "Rider."

Mrs. Jones took a seat. "We must tell him we have found his guardian."

Blunt dropped everything he was doing. "Absolutely not."

"Wh… why not?" Mrs. Jones seemed surprised.

The man opposite her steepled his pale fingers before him, leaning on his desk. "If we were to tell Rider his guardian was killed in _our_ lobby after we had spent weeks fruitlessly searching for the girl, I don't think it would go over well."

Mrs. Jones found herself restraining a furious growl. "But…! Even if it wouldn't go over well, he has the right to know!" She couldn't imagine the heartbreak it might cause if they withheld such information from the boy.

Blunt let escape a harsh laugh. "And when have we ever been about rights, Jones?" He raised a condescending eyebrow at her.

Fists clenched, she was about to reply when the intercom on the desk came to life. "_The man to retrieve Rider is in the lobby, sir._"

Blunt pressed the reply button. "Good. Tell him to make it snappy."

"_Yes sir._"

Blunt refocused his attention on his colleague. "You were saying?"

Mrs. Jones was staring at the intercom. "Blunt," she paused, almost too horrified to ask, "'_the man to retrieve Rider_?' What are you doing with him?"

The shadow of a smirk adorned Blunts face. He was unusually expressive today. "I'm ensuring the safety of our secret weapon.

"I'm sending Rider to touch up his skills at Brecon Beacons."

**. . . . **

**Authors Note: **I believe what I'm doing is called "procrastination." Actually, I call it life, obsession, and a switch of fandoms.

Enjoy my first Alex Rider fic, it is _soooo_ not a one-shot.


	2. Chapter 2: Déjà Vu

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 2: Déjà Vu**

Eagle hummed the tune of "You are My Sunshine" quietly as he drove the SAS issued truck to "Brooklands Comprehensive." He had no idea why he was supposed to retrieve an agent from a school, immediately. Maybe the agent was undercover as a teacher? Or maybe their civilian half worked there. Eagle didn't know, or particularly care.

Eagle stopped humming and glanced curiously at the tranquilizer gun in the passenger seat next to him. What he _really_ wanted to know was why he was authorized to use a _tranq_ to bring them in.

As the building came into view, he briefly wondered if maybe the agent was on the lam.

…

Alex sighed heavily as he finished his homework. The teacher was still rambling on about how to do this certain type of maths; Alex already knew how to solve all the problems. He laid his head on his desk and tried with all his being to _not think of Jack_.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned to see Tom gesticulating to the door. He raised his head and blearily stared at the man standing in the doorway examining the students. In fact, all his classmates seemed to be staring back. He was a lanky many with a subtle strength about him. His serious face found Alex in the sea of pupils and his eyes widened with recognition.

Alex abruptly rose from his seat as Eagle kept staring. He had the entire class gawking at him as well. The mysterious Rider seemed to know the unknown man at the door.

Eagle couldn't believe it, the agent was Cub! He stepped forward slightly, reaching a hand out as Cub stood abruptly, eyes wild. It looked like he knew why he was here, and Cub didn't want to go.

"Cub…" he began. Suddenly, the boy made an attempt to escape. Out the window. The class gasped as he slid the glass over and jumped outside. They were on the third floor!

Eagles heart skipped a beat, was the kid mad? Running to the window, he steeled himself for the worst. Peering over the edge, Eagle sighed with relief when he didn't see the kids' bloody remains at the base of the school, he must have climbed down.

Cub was now at the bike rack, fumbling with his bike lock in the haste to flee. Eagle would never be able to catch a kid on a bike escaping through the streets of London. Readying the tranquilizer and taking careful aim, Eagle sent a silent apology to K-Unit's unorthodox fifth teammate, and pulled the trigger. The sleeping dart buried itself in Cubs left calf, but the kid wasn't going down without a fight. Swearing fluently, he yanked out the feathered dart and made a break for the school gates. Halfway across the yard, he slowed considerably, and then collapsed on the ground. Hearing a scream behind him, the SAS man turned to see the entire class plus the teacher staring at him, horrified.

Suddenly, Eagle was nervous. They had just seen a stranger march into their classroom and shoot a student. "This isn't what it looks like…" He trailed off as the teacher came storming over to the window. He searched the grounds and found Alex's prone form lying in the grass. Turning angrily back to the shooter, he was about to launch into a tirade about killing his students when a signed Excuse Slip was handed to him.

Irately, he snatched it out of Eagles hand. "What is this?"

Eagle, thinking the teacher was referring to the slip, answered, "A signed slip to allow Alex Rider out of school early."

A vein pulsed on the teacher's forehead. "I know what _this_ is!" Waving the piece of paper in soldiers face, he continued, "But what are you doing _shooting_ and probably _killing_ my students in the middle of class! If you're going to do that, at least do it during passing time!"

Eagle's mouth hung open. "I didn't kill—"

The teacher sighed heavily, anger draining out of him. "Are you with the government?"

The question caught Eagle so off guard, he didn't know what to say. Caught between replying "yes" and wondering whether or not he was allowed to tell this man anything, he just kept quiet. The teacher took his silence as an affirmation of his fears.

"We all know Alex is in some type of trouble. But next time…" he glanced around at his class who were watching the pair converse with great interest, he lowered his voice, "…next time, please do what you have to _after_ school."

After leaving the tense atmosphere of the classroom to retrieve Alex from the lawn, Eagle allowed his thoughts to wander. He remembered what the teacher had said, "_We all know Alex is in some type of trouble…_"

What trouble was Cub in? The kids name was Alex? Why had MI6 insisted _he_ retrieve him? Why not somebody else? And _why had they authorized the use of a tranq?_ Did they know Cub was going to try to run? But they called him an agent, if Cub worked for them, why'd he try to escape?

Eagle frowned deeply, Cub was extracting a lot of questions from him, and Eagle wasn't a known thinker. Shrugging his queries off into some unused corner of his mind to be forgotten, Eagle approached Alex's body. He lay prone on the lawn, sleeping. As he hefted the boy up to carry to the truck, he began to hum "You are My Sunshine" again, to distract himself from all the unpleasantness of the situation if nothing else.

Cub had a lot of explaining to do, and Eagle had quite the story to tell the rest of K-Unit.

…

Alex groaned loudly, waking from the sudden sleep he had been subjected to.

What had happened?

Sitting up on the hard cot Alex found himself on, the teen took in his surroundings. Worn walls and floor, rock-hard bunks with a single sheet pulled tightly across the top, mud covered floor, possessions shoved into small shelves, guns hanging on numbered hooks…

Alex's eyes widened at the guns. Guns? Where was he? Wracking his brain for a match, he made a choking noise as he identified his surroundings. He was in Brecon Beacons!

Alex fell dejectedly back onto the cot with another noisy groan. "Welcome back to Hell…" he muttered in a bitingly sarcastic tone to himself. He remembered Eagle had walked into his classroom, Eagle had recognized him, he had run, Eagle had shot him…

Alex checked his watch, it was still Tuesday, at least he wasn't out for too long. Jumping up from the hastily added cot shoved into what would surely be _his_ corner for however long he was to stay, Alex tried to remember which bunk was Eagle's.

Oh, that man was gonna' get it. The rumors at his school must be going wild now.

_As if they already weren't,_ he thought. While searching the hut, he found a horribly scrawled note tacked to the wall by the door.

_Cub,  
Stay in the cabin 'till we get back.  
~ K-Unit_

A rowdy voice in the back of his mind reminded him he was no longer Alex, but "Agent" or "Cub," most likely Cub here. Well, at least these men didn't know him for his missions, they were OK compared to some people he had to work with.

Like Blunt.

Alex wondered about Blunt, had he sent him here? Probably. But Blunt was too cold to put him with the same Unit and to have someone familiar "pick him up." In fact…

Alex checked his calf; there was a bandage over the spot where the dart had pierced his skin.

It was most likely Blunt who had given Eagle the tranquilizer. "Damn you, Blunt." Alex didn't care about his language now, he was worse than angry, he was livid. He could almost hear Jack berating him, _"Alex! Stop spitting garbage in the air! It stinks!"_

Alex smiled slightly, then a full on frown broke out. Jack… had MI6 found her? Was that why he was here? Was she okay? She had disappeared around a month ago and Alex hadn't stopped worrying since. In his "work," Alex had made his fair share of enemies who would jump on the chance of causing him pain. He had promised himself that after this whole kidnapping ordeal was over he would make sure Jack went back to America; it was just too dangerous for her to hang around with him. Jack was like the older sister he never had. A brother never endangers a sister. Not if he could help it.

Alex realized he had been staring at Eagles bunk for a minute now and his eyes lit up. Second to the right, "Just like Peter Pan," he had heard the man say once.

Turing to his bed again, Alex found two duffel bags. One had a few of his possessions he was sure he hadn't packed (_nosey MI6_) and the other considerably smaller bag contained some general hygiene products like toothpaste and deodorant, some gadgets (_thank god for that Smithers!_), and most surprisingly, a brief note from Mrs. Jones.

_Alex,  
This is the least I can do for you. Take care of yourself.  
~ Jones_

Frowning in consternation, Alex wondered why Mrs. Jones was being so… nice, for lack of a better word. Though she had always seemed a little less heartless than Blunt, he had always assumed he was just another Agent to her. Maybe not. Perhaps she was feeling guilty? For what? Sending his unwilling self on all those life-threatening missions? The security lapse that lost Jack? Or maybe she was trying to butter him up; maybe after another short stay in Hell she'd ship him off on some other mission.

Stuffing the note in some inconspicuous side pocket, Alex rooted through the bag. What should he prank Eagle with? After a minute of searching, he hit the jackpot. A bottle labeled "Zit Crème" surfaced. Grinning deviously, Alex set to work on the bunk.

Poor, unsuspecting Eagle.

**. . . .**

**Authors Note: **Hello again! More procrastination! Hope everybody likes! Tell me if you see any typos or facts I got wrong. Sorry about Eagle's description, I couldn't remember what he looked like.

Review please!


	3. Chapter 3: Second First Impression

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 3: Second First Impression**

**Military Intelligence 6 and Military Intelligence 5 Database Welcomes:  
**_Dave Marlusky_

**Enter Search Term: **

Dave stared at the glowing computer screen as if he were watching the most interesting sitcom on television. He was a tall man made short by slouching in his swivel chair. Dark bags hung under forest green eyes with night-black hair and pale skin that told of days cooped up inside with little sleep or sunlight. For a man in his twenties, he seemed older, more fragile than he should. There were many reasons that were so. One being his job, he was an intelligence "collector" for MI5 and MI6. His life was spent in dark rooms putting together reports for whatever the government wanted, whenever they wanted.

He wasn't complaining, they paid well and he had the most interesting things to boast about.

That brings us to his second reason. He was _too_ boastful. Someone, somewhere, with the right contacts had heard of the access he had to the government databases. His wife and kids had been taken and held for ransom, the ransom being the codes to access the databases. Panicking, Dave had told his employers, who informed him the ransom was not to be met.

_Dave's jaw was hanging open. "Wh… what do you mean? What do you mean 'we can't do that?'"_

_The Deputy Head of MI6 sat calmly and coldly behind her desk, hands folded, examining the incompetent employee before her like a scientist observing an interesting bug. Just before they dissect it._

"_Mr. Marlusky, I assure you the demands these people make are much too high, and your family just aren't important enough to demand such a ransom for."_

_Dave's fists clenched in anger and his eyes hardened. "Are you saying you're just going to let them die, then? Because just let me 'assure' you of one thing, Mrs. Jones—"_

_The woman held a placating hand in the air to halt the furious mans outburst before he said something he'd regret. "I never said we would 'let them die' as you so eloquently put it. As we speak a team of fully trained SAS men are on their way to negotiate your family's safe return."_

_The anger drained out of Dave in an instant. "Really?"_

_Mrs. Jones popped a peppermint in her mouth. Feeling she had no reason to answer his needless question, she decided to dismiss the man and get back to her work. She had more important things to do. "If that was all you had to report, Mr. Marlusky, the door is just over there."_

_Nodding dumbly, Dave got up from the uncomfortable metal chair. Weak with relief, he turned around at the doorway and whispered, "Thank you."_

_The Deputy Head just nodded, eyes on her paperwork._

The negotiations had gone well, until whoever had kidnapped his family went back on the deal. His wife and two children had been killed in cold blood. That had been four months ago. Since then he had thrown himself into work, anything to forget the pain of his loss. It was in his work that he found it.

It was a rumor in the criminal world, considered a tall-tale in the government, and it didn't even exist in what he liked to refer to as the "real-world," the place where civilians lived.

**Enter Search Term: **

Dave hastily tapped at the keys. This was the moment he had been waiting for. This was the organization that had supposedly kidnapped his family, this was the organization that had been considered nothing but anecdote by the government until a missing person had appeared, whispered its name, and then fell over dead on the floor of HQ.

**Enter Search Term:**_Aquarius _

A page full of results appeared. One side being all the files found within the Military Intelligence databases and the right side being every single file containing the word on the World Wide Web, most relevant to least relevant. Dave checked the MI files first, there was only one:

…_Aquarius, rumored underground criminal organization. Beliefs mostly unfounded, no evidence that it exists…_

The lack of information within the government network had Dave frowning. How was he supposed to write a paper on something they knew next to nothing about? How were they supposed to catch his family's murderers if they didn't know where they were or where they'd be? Next, he checked the WWW, which had considerably more, though not what he was looking for. There was nothing on any criminal organization.

…_11__th__ house, Aquarius, Benefacta, Friendship, House of Friendships, "__Friends and acquaintances of like-minded attitudes. Groups, clubs and societies. Higher associations. Benefits and fortunes from career. One's hopes and wishes…"_

… _Aquarius is a constellation of the zodiac, situated between Capricornus and Pisces. Its name is Latin for "water-bearer" or "cup-bearer", and its symbol is (see "), a representation of water…_

…_Aquarius__ (Greek:__Υδροχόος__) "Ydrochóos" is the eleventh __astrological sign __in the__Zodiac, originating from the __constellation Aquarius. In__astrology, Aquarius is considered a "masculine," __positive (extrovert) sign…_

Dave was interrupted from his search by a sharp knock at his front door. He had decided to work at home today and escape the oppressing aura of the usual offices. The guard at the door of the building had warned him strongly against it, but Dave didn't feel he'd be in any danger browsing the web at home. He was just an analyst after all. A threat he was not, nor someone valuable.

Sighing, he pushed his swivel chair back from the desk and stepped out of his office to open the door. Surprisingly, whoever had knocked had opened the door himself. A man stood in the doorway, the midday sun reflecting off the pistol he held expertly in one hand. Orange hair framed a gaunt sort of face and chilling blue eyes.

Instantly, Dave was wary. It was hard not to be when you were staring down the barrel of a gun.

His Adams apple bobbed as he gulped nervously. "Can I help you?" Dave mentally cursed his voice, it had come out shaky.

The only reply from the man was the sound of the safety clicking off the handgun. Advancing, he stood a foot away from Dave. He nodded, "Dave," he had a full, deep voice, "I've been sent to reunite you with your family."

With a single shot, Dave fell slowly to the carpet, a bullet between his wide green eyes.

The shooter glanced down at the man's body with distaste. A techie. Alfonsio couldn't help but feel disgruntled that he was always sent to take care of the soft ones. Stepping around the dead man in the hallway, he made his way into the target's office. On the computer screen was an impressive amount of info off the web about anything with the word "Aquarius" in it. Reading through the intel, Alfonsio was pleased to see Military Intelligence knew nothing about Aquarius, they didn't even think the organization existed.

They were dead wrong.

Since the foolish techie had left the window open, it was a simple matter for Alfonsio to delete all the MI data and all the report the man had compiled to show them. Finishing the job, he exited the office, stepped over the body, and closed the door behind him.

Alfonsio was wearing brown khaki pants, a black Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and a blue Chelsea Football baseball cap. Overall, he had the look of a carefree twenty-something leaving an old buddy's house. Strolling down the sidewalk of the sunny middle-class suburban neighborhood and greeting the neighbors cheerily outside, no one would have suspected the assassin had just made a hit.

And it was always to stay that way as well.

…

This… was not how it was supposed to go.

Alex had forgotten he had been gone for a year… and a half… maybe. He couldn't really remember, but that didn't matter. What did matter was the enraged Wolf trying with all his might to glare him down. If looks could kill Alex would've been dead ten times over.

Turns out K-Unit had switched beds sometime after he left. He had covered the cross-beams holding the thin mattress off the floor in Smithers' "Zit Crème," and the acid had eaten through the thin metal poles, but not completely. The bed looked fine from a distance, but someone would find it most certainly wasn't the moment they put any pressure on it. When K-Unit had returned, Alex's second first impression was nastily ruined.

_K-Unit trooped through the door, panting for breath. They were covered in mud, and the scent of wet earth and sweat permeated the room. Alex was on the floor by his bed, meditating, breathing deeply, savoring the one moment of peace he was sure to have before his training began in earnest._

_Wolf glanced at him and grunted, probably in what was supposed to be a hello. Eagle gave an awkward "hi" and Snake advanced toward him. Stopping a foot away, he gave his greeting. "Hello, Cub."_

_Alex opened one eye to properly see the SAS man. "Hello, Snake."_

_Alex felt no threat from the man, he had been the least hostile during his first stay at Brecon Beacons, and considering the crazed maniacs he seemed to meet wherever he went, K-Unit no longer seemed as intimidating as they had during his first stay. Back in the good old days, the worst he had to worry about was his Unit and surviving SAS training. Now, he was probably on the criminal world's "Most Wanted" list._

_Snake nodded genially and sat on his bunk, which was next to Alex's cot. Alex noticed a fourth man in the room and the fourth man noticed Alex. He was average height, probably twenty-thirtyish, staring at Alex with narrowed hazel eyes, brown hair and stubble in desperate need of a good shave decorating his chin._

Needs a long shower too,_ Alex fought down a grin at the thought; the man stunk to be honest. Wrinkling his nose, he decided to break the silence. "Hello, I'm Cub," his tone was amiable, but he could tell for some reason it was ticking the man off, "I assume you're Fox's replacement."_

_The man nodded curtly, eyes still narrowed, "Skunk," was his reply._

_Alex couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, the name was all too fitting. Skunk noticed it too._

"_What's so funny, Cub?" he growled._

_He wiped the grin off his face instantly, no need to get off on the wrong foot. "Nothing."_

_Alex was on the receiving end of his Unit-mate's glower, but he ignored it in favor of watching Eagle read some mail in the bunk closest to the door. That wasn't his bunk… was it? Skunk's death-glare was interrupted by the raucous sound of the bottom bunk to the left falling to the ground the moment Wolf sat on it._

_Alex groaned, _speaking of getting off on the wrong foot…

"Why me?" he asked no one in particular.

**. . . . **

**Authors Note: **Hm? Wow, I'm really updating this fast, my hands are typing 20 mph, that's over the speed limit.

Hah hah! Skunk stinks… worst joke ever, but what-the-hey?

Poor Dave, this is why I dislike making OC's, I tend to kill them off right away. You too, Alfonsio, look out.

R&R Please!

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	4. Chapter 4: Gemini and Duplicate

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 4: Gemini and Duplicate**

The cold wind of an oncoming summer squall whistled through the dry grass of the Russian lowland plain, a sweet smell wafting through the air. Somewhere in the midst of the calm natural fields a radio crackled to life.

"_Gem to Dupe, in position… over."_

The shifting of a coarse material could be heard, then a reply from within the grass, "Dupe to Gem, in position… over."

"_Permission to proceed…? Over."_

A heavy duty walkie-talkie, outfitted with a state of the art scrambler and MI6 GPS was lifted to a pair of colorless lips. "Permission granted."

Somewhere, miles away in the same plane, a tracker device and distress signal was activated. "Dupe" held his breath, not even daring to move, desperately hoping MI6 would get the signal before their pursuers found them. Thunder boomed ominously in the distance as the dark clouds of the looming storm continued rolling across the previously clear blue sky.

A sound in the distance, Dupe strained his ears… there it was again! The distinct swish of chopper blades echoed across the flat expanse of lowland. Letting a heavy sigh of breath escape his lips, Dupe smiled for the first time in what seemed like ages. Prematurely gray hair, equally gray skin and blandly colorless eyes gave Dupe the look of a man who didn't express his happiness often.

The copter began to descend as a distant figure stepped out into an open expanse of grass, waving it down. Their ride was here, they had the USB…

Dupe tensed and threw himself to the left the instant he sensed it, and not a moment too soon. A bullet whistled through the air and buried itself in the ground where he had lain seconds before. Ignoring his throbbing wounds in a way only the most elite can, Dupe began to weave his way towards the helicopter as the angry shouts of their pursuers chased his hurried steps.

The figure that had helped the copter land had turned as the first bullet's sound reached his ears, now he waved frantically, trying to urge his comrade on and reach safety faster. SAS men hustled out of the copter behind him and began to open fire on the enemy closing in.

In the heat of the battle, Dupe's mouth was dry, neck tingling, injuries twingeing painfully as he moved, ears ringing as the bullets whizzed nearby. The smell of damp air, mud—and now the tang of blood—permeated his nose. He was close now; the copter was _so_ tantalizingly close. Then, he did the stupidest thing of which he'd berate himself for time and time again.

He tripped.

Dupe swore fluently as he tumbled down a small hill, painfully rolling over his damages as he fell. At the bottom, he was too winded to clamber up and continue running.

_Weak,_ the demon in his mind ridiculed, _you're too weak, too slow, you'll fail this mission for sure. You can't help _anyone_. Not even yourself, you'll be killed for sure._

His breathing hitched as a pair of strong arms clasped his middle and hauled him over the person's shoulder.

"Where would you be without me?" the person sighed in mock exasperation.

Dupe sighed shakily in relief; it was the figure that had activated the signal (risking his life greatly as it could be tracked by anyone) and flagged down the helicopter. It was his comrade in arms and beloved twin brother, codename Gem.

He was almost the exact opposite of his brother, always happy and bouncy, not cold and reserved. Shaggy white-blonde hair adorned his healthy face pink with exertion. All this framed his beautiful green eyes hidden behind long lashes. He had a lean body that was taught like a rubber band when needed, and seducing when he wanted to be. Ladies man was an understatement.

"Thanks, Gem." He breathlessly thanked his brother.

All he got in reply was a sharp nod. As they reached the copter, the SAS men began trooping back into the vehicle, firing shots over their shoulders as they went to cover the Agents' retreat. Dupe lifted his head wearily as he was bounced along, then his eyes widened in surprised dread. It seemed as though their pursuers had sent a whole battalion of their highly trained troops, and none of them looked like they were going to stop charging any time soon.

Gem hefted him roughly into the copter, foregoing all sense of caution in favor of haste. Dupe lay on the cold hard metal floor, head facing the open door, too exhausted to move. And it was from this limp position he experienced some of the most traumatizing moments of his life.

Gem had turned and was about to follow everyone else into the helicopter when he jerked foreword suddenly, as if pushed harshly from behind. Dupe's gray eyes widened at the sight of his brother's form falling to the ground as the chopper-blades began to gain speed. Peering fearfully over the edge of the copter door, he saw Gem lying painfully still on the ground.

Dupe reached a hand out, he brushed the back of his brother's neck, finger hooking around his necklace. "Gem…" he croaked.

His brother coughed, a scarlet stain spreading along his upper back. Feebly, he turned his head to eye Dupe out of the corner of his green orbs. "Alan…" he pleaded, "help me…"

Dupe wanted to get up, wanted to help his brother, he _needed_ to! But… he couldn't. He had no more strength left. Quite clearly, he recalled the bullet in his leg, the lacerations cutting deep along his torso, and the bruise forming dangerously close to a killer pressure point. With super-human effort, he pulled himself closer to the edge, closer to his brother, and clenched his hand dimly around Gem's necklace.

Why weren't any of the SAS helping him? Why couldn't _he_ help him?

_Weak, _the demon jeered again, _I was right. You are _weak_._

And suddenly, he felt the copter lift off the ground, felt a bullet hitting the hull of the escape vehicle, felt himself becoming more distant from his brother. In desperation, he held the chain necklace tighter, as if he could pull his brother up with him if only the necklace would stay within his grasp. Dimly, he heard shouts, but his gaze was stolen by the captivating crimson stain spreading over his brother's motionless form.

Then, like the Fates cutting the Thread of Life, the chain snapped as the copter rose too high for Gem's body to follow. Dupe stared horrified at the necklace in his hand, on it was knotted the USB with the information their mission was to retrieve. He had Gem's half of the Intel, but not his brother.

"Anthony!" he called as the copter kept rising higher and higher. Gem's—or Anthony's—form stayed unmoving, not responding as he was overtaken by their pursuers.

Two hours later found Dupe—or Alan—huddled in a corner of the copter, wrapped in a rough blanket the medic had issued him after a hasty examination and patch-up job. They were flying back to an MI6 checkpoint to deliver his Intel. "Job before self" they always say.

Alan was traumatized to say the least, in pain, and they had just left his brother behind! He clutched the necklace to his heart as tears fought to spill over his eyes. In that dark corner of the world, Alan made a decision that would change his life forever.

_Anything to defeat Scorpia._

And if that meant no more relationships, so be it. He was cold already; he had only to become more detached.

"_Scorpia never forgives, Scorpia never forgets."_

Well, neither does Alan Blunt.

**. . . .**

**Authors Note: **I'm sure you're all bored of my OC's and back stories by now. Don't worry, Gem and Dupe's stories are important in the storyline.

Gem = Gemini

Dupe = Duplicate

Anyone else get it? Hah hah, me and my lame jokes… They needed codenames, they are twins, Gemini the twins, duplicates. Get it? Whatever.

Review please! I get this wonderful warm feeling when I read a nice review, even if it's in Spanish!


	5. Chapter 5: Obituaries

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 5: Obituaries**

Blunt sighed sadly as he remembered that day, their plan. The idea was that if they split the target information in half, even if one of them didn't make it out alive, the other would be able to deliver at least half of the intel. Why not copy the info onto both USB's? There hadn't been the time.

In part, it was his decision to become so inhumanly cold that made him such an efficient Agent and had him promoted so fast from Agent to Deputy Director. From there, it was only a matter of time before he became Head Director. The Director he was deputing for at the time—Shawn LaSanta (with longs a's)—was almost painfully soft. Behind his back, a few of the nastier Agents and staff nicknamed him Santa Clause. Very few missions were successful during his time.

When Blunt took over, he revamped the whole process, hardened the employees, and never made easily avoided mistakes. Not a single minute would he change. The only thing he allowed himself to regret was being too weak to help his brother.

Unconsciously, his fingers sought the comfort of the chain-necklace he had been able to retrieve off Anthony's limp body all those years ago. It was rusted slightly from continued fingering, and it still had a small spot of blood on the USB, but Blunt hadn't the heart to scrub it off.

After catching himself gazing at it, Blunt quickly threw the necklace back in its drawer as if burned and locked it tight. This was no time to be reminiscing! He had more important things to do. Like puzzle over Aquarius and find some other way to blackmail Rider when their last bargaining chip (his guardian) was dead and gone. He turned his cold gaze to the report on his desktop.

_...Dave Marlusky (analyst), 30, was found dead in his home today, killed by a bullet between the eyes…_

Blunt frowned slightly, previous recollections forgotten. Marlusky was the analyst they had set on amassing intel on this so called "Aquarius." If someone had killed him, that meant this "Aquarius" had something to hide. And that they'd have to find a new analyst, and keep them in the building this time.

According to the report, all the CCTV cameras in the area had been disabled prior to the murder. No fingerprints, hairs, or other indicating factors had been located either. Whoever had made the hit was a professional, and that made his job all the harder.

Blunt sighed noisily in calm exasperation and rubbed his aching head, why had he decided to become a patriot again?

…

Alex frowned at the SAS man's apparent stupidity. "No, Wolf, I didn't know it was your bunk." He shot a small but scorching glare at Eagle. "What you got was meant to be a 'thank you for tranquilizing me in front of my classmates' present for Eagle here."

Eagle shrugged casually from his bunk, Alex's glare obviously having no effect. "I was just doing what I was told, Cub."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Did you know that the 'I was just following orders…' excuse hasn't been valid in the court of law since the trials of the Nazi's?"

He felt more than saw the rolled up newspaper flying at his head from Wolf's direction and ducked just in time. It landed on his bed and unfurled like a spring leaf on the thin sheet. Alex raised an eyebrow at Wolf, "Getting a little childish, aren't we?"

Wolf grunted, still too angry to trust himself with words. Alex was half surprised, half relieved Wolf hadn't attacked him yet, though he could see that in his tense position he really wanted to.

Snake, seeing the question in his eyes, blessed Alex with an answer. "Wolf's been attending anger management classes."

Alex's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. That would explain Wolf's deviation from his usual disposition. He couldn't help the query coming, "Why's that?"

The previously light atmosphere of the small hut darkened considerably. Alex blinked at the reaction his question got, Eagle had closed his eyes and was apparently doing silent calming exercises if the measured rise and fall of his chest were any indicator, Skunk was skulking in a corner, avoiding eye contact as much as possible, Snake was scuffing the floor with his shoe, a dejected expression on his face, and Wolf was sitting cross legged on his bed, arms still crossed, facing his pillow with his brow furrowed with… was that…? Regret?

Sighing, Alex tried to tell them he didn't care if he knew or not (and he really didn't) but Wolf insisted.

"If you're here _again_," he growled the word in anger, "you might as well know what's been going on in your unit."

Alex shrugged nonchalantly. "Okay, hit me with it."

Wolf sighed heavily, looking quite older than Alex ever remembered him appearing before. "We… we were assigned this hostage situation a few months back, some family of an MI6 analyst. At first, it seemed as though the captors weren't going to budge unless they got these codes..." He turned to Alex. "By the way, I'm the negotiations specialist of the unit," he informed him. Alex nodded to show he had heard. Wolf continued, "The negotiations were challenging, you'd start one argument and the captors negotiator would throw it back at you! He was a professional if I ever saw one… Anyway, after a while, we convinced the captors that the analyst didn't have what they wanted, and we were backing off with the hostages."

He stopped. Alex glanced at Wolf and realized for the first time that though he could be an evil idiot, he wasn't cold and unfeeling like most of the people he'd met in "the business." Wolf rubbed a hand over his face. "I… I was an idiot. I let them get to me… I got them riled up as we backed out with the hostages and they somehow killed the hostages without even touching them!"

He sighed heavily, rubbing his hands together and staring at the floor.

Alex eyed him. "That's it?" he asked.

Wolf glanced up at him, facial expression warring between furious and curious. "What do you mean 'that's it?'" he growled.

Alex shrugged indifferently, lying on his back on the cot, staring at the water stained ceiling and trying to ignore the stares. It was obvious that Wolf felt responsible for the loss if life, and the rest of the unit did as well, but that was no reason to feel as though the subject was so touchy. From his experience, it could have gone worse, and he told them so. "It could have gone worse. From what you tell me, it sounds like these guys would have killed the family anyway, and they probably could've killed you too."

Wolf snorted, "And how would you know that?"

Alex let loose a harsh laugh, "Wouldn't you like to know."

He decided to stop baiting them and picked up the newspaper to read. It was his local paper. Quizzically, he peered around the paper and met Wolf's drilling gaze. "Why did you have my paper?"

Wolf blinked at him, still not looking away, "I meant to tell you, you had mail."

Alex raised an eyebrow and went back to the paper; he didn't know he got mail. But then again, they may be in Wales but they weren't out of communication. The SAS men must have some way to contact their friends and family. He skimmed the headlines, passing over the ads and obituaries until a certain name caught his eye.

Shock coursed through his system as he read the name and date of death again. Much to the surprise of his unit-mates, he jumped off his cot and dashed out the door, slamming it behind him; he had a call to make.

…

K-Unit stared open-mouthed at the door as the last echoes of solid wood meeting wood died away.

Eagle was the first to break the silence. "We forgot to say, 'welcome back.'" As usual, he was the first to crack a joke.

Wolf growled, "I'm not welcoming a brat back into my unit."

Skunk glanced between the men. "He's been here before?"

Snake nodded, "He trained with us for two weeks last year. That was the last time we saw him."

"Well, actually…" everyone turned to the indecisive Wolf, "Actually, I worked with him a few months back in the French Alps."

Eagle frowned. "You never told us this."

Wolf shrugged, not making eye contact. "It didn't seem important…" he looked up and saw his unit-mates incredulous gazes. Sighing, he looked down and mumbled, "And I may have been told not to tell anyone either…"

Skunk looked thoughtful. "Who asked you to do that?"

"MI6."

Snake seemed astonished, "Why'd they do that?"

Wolf shrugged, standing. "How should I know?" Everyone stared at him. "What?" Wolf was not liking all this attention on him.

Eagle spoke slowly, as if explaining things to a child. "And you didn't wonder why MI6 was even involved?"

Wolf folded his arms across his chest in agitation. "No," he explained, "I assumed his father was some big shot government or celebrity figure and MI6 couldn't afford to lose the son of someone like that." Then, his eyes grew distant in remembrance. "But then again, it takes more than skill to snowboard down a mountain on an ironing board while dodging bullets…"

Wolf shook his head like a dog to clear his thoughts. "No matter, we should probably…" he realized he still held everyone's gazes. They varied from shocked to curious. Wolf groaned, he knew what was coming.

Snake gestured to the stretch of bunk next to himself. "Sit." He ordered, as if to a dog. That description was pretty accurate. Wolf sat warily on the bunk in loathe of the brain picking session he was sure to receive.

…

"I don't know anything more than that!" Wolf exploded. He had endured his unit-mates detailed questions for half an hour and had explained everything from what his mission briefing had been to why blue was his favorite color.

The hut silenced for a few moments, everyone deep in thought, before Eagle spoke up. "You know, I was the one that retrieved him from school today."

Wolf snorted, entirely on edge and still a bit irritated. "We know that, Eagle. You told us, remember?"

Eagle just glanced at Wolf before continuing. "Well, I was given a tranquilizer and _'encouraged'_ to use it." Everyone could hear the quotation marks around the word.

Skunk looked wide eyed at Eagle in horror. "You used a _tranq_ on a kid?"

Eagle pouted, "It's not like I had a choice. They had the entire area under surveillance and said my life'd be worse than hell if I didn't use it. Besides, Cub's okay, isn't he?"

Wolf growled. "Other than the fact my bunk will need repairing, Cub is fine."

Snake turned to face Wolf's ruined bunk. "How did he do that anyway?"

That was a good question. The SAS issue bunks were just metal poles welded together, no bolts or screws. To disassemble them the way Cub had, you'd need a blowtorch and more than three hours time. Cub hadn't even been here that long.

Skunk shrugged and waltzed out the door. "I don't know about you guys, but dinner sounds much more appetizing than figuring out some bratty teenager." Wolf followed Skunk out the door in apparent agreement. Eagle and Snake glanced at each other before clambering out of their bunks and following, whispering intensely behind the first two of their unit.

**. . . .**

**Authors Note: ***Evil grin* Guess whose name was in the paper?

Sorry about this chapter, it's kinda' filler kinda' not because there is some important stuff in it. Also, I apologize for the use of a quite popular storyline. The "Alex-returns-to-Brecon-Beacons-and-totally-confuses-and/or-horrofies-a-previously-clueless-K-Unit" bit. I actually like those stories and couldn't help myself, it seemed logical.

Quick question: on a scale of one to ten, how is this story exciting you so far? 10 being, "I'm staking out my computer for the next chapter, I'm so hooked!" and 1 being "this'll probably be the last chapter I read."

Also, I've seen that some people set review goals. So I won't update 'till I have at least five reviews. Not hard to ask, right? I know I have at least 12 people who've alerted this story, so all you have to do is review!

So…

**Review please! :)  
**|  
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	6. Chapter 6: The Unknown

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 6: The Unknown**

Alex looked up from his food (if you could call it that) as he heard K-Unit enter the Mess Hall. He scowled at them as the unit obliviously got in line for the same mush Alex was toying with, he having no appetite. The smell of dirty men and rotten food in the stuffy atmosphere may have also had something to do with it. He hated this place even more now. It hadn't been so bad at first; he didn't have to pretend to be some big shot spy, or whiny teenager here. But then Blunt had to go and get all dramatic on him, and Scorpia had decided to add itself to the mix.

Alex gazed into his food without really seeing it as he remembered his conversation with Blunt earlier:

_Alex tapped his fingers on the Sergeant's desk as he impatiently waited for the phone-lines to connect. After what seemed like hours of irately glaring off into space while the Sergeant looked on with quite the disgruntled expression, an emotionless voice by Alex's ear broke the silence._

"_Blunt."_

_Alex's hardly restrained anger was evident in his voice and upon hearing the head of MI6, he snapped. "Blunt! Would you mind explaining a few things to me?"_

_Across the line, Blunt calmly held the phone away from his ear until his agent's unruly tirade was finished. Replacing the receiver to his ear, he spoke in an even voice. "It's cover."_

_Alex's teeth ground in frustration. "Like hell it's cover! Why am I dead again?"_

"_It was quite the tragedy. Someone had your home staked out and killed Jack the moment she walked in the door with a common kitchen knife. When you returned home after being released from police custody, you were jumped by that same person and died when they shoved the knife in your back. The police barged into your home after you didn't answer their calls and found the two of you sometime around 7 pm tonight."_

_Alex had calmed himself enough to ground out a single statement. "Where's Jack?"_

_The sound of the man Alex had come to hate clearing his throat could be heard across the line. "Mention to the dear Sergeant over there that anything he hears in this conversation is classified."_

_Alex growled, Blunt was obviously trying to deflect the question. "Why? Do you think he's going to defect and sell all your disgusting secrets?" Irritability at the current situation was not helping Alex's control, sarcasm was the obvious answer._

"_Just do it, Rider."_

_Sighing crossly, Alex turned and sent a dark glare at the drill sergeant, "Blunt kindly asked me to mention that anything you hear in this conversation is classified."_

_Turning from the Sergeants quickly growing rage at being addressed in such a way by a teenager, Alex pursued his original question. "What did you do with Jack?" he said, a little louder than necessary._

_Again, Blunt held the phone away in calm indifference. "She is currently being shipped back to America."_

"_Let me guess," Alex growled, "'for protection.'"_

"_Exactly."_

_Alex rubbed his temples in a vain attempt to quell an oncoming headache, now for the big question. "And what am _I_ doing here, Blunt?"_

"_We believe that this latest attack on you may have been initiated by Scorpia." Well, at least he got straight to the point instead of beating around the bush as usual. That in itself was enough to make him suspicious._

"_Really? Only Scorpia?" He was skeptical to be sure. Alex could almost hear the sound of Blunt's frown across the line. "Because I was sure it was the Russian mafia."_

_Alex sneered. "Funny how I haven't believed a word you've said so far."_

"_Rider," Blunt admonished, "Scorpia is nothing to brush off so lightly."_

_The teen spy laughed bitterly. "Really? In my experience there are worse things than Scorpia, no matter what you may think, Blunt."_

"_Ri—Alex." A new voice intruded on their "conversation," it was Mrs. Jones in all her peppermint sucking glory. He wondered why she was addressing him so casually. "Please be reasonable. We finally found your guardian, she's being protected, you're being protected, and you can further your training in Wales. There's nothing to worry about."_

_There's nothing to worry about._ Oh, how many times he'd heard that phrase, how many times he'd wanted to believe it. Alex had more on his plate than most adults, he had too much to worry about, and he was still sane somehow. Alex cracked a wry grin at the thought. It wasn't like he'd ever had a psyche evaluation. If he wasn't staring off into space and muttering random bits of madness, he wasn't crazy on his own scale.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Alex caught a bit of K-Unit's conversation. They had seated themselves not far from Alex and promptly ignored him, the normal routine.

"And then…" Eagle was choking on a spoonful of mush in laughter, "and then I said, 'I don't think that was mud!'"

The rest of the table cracked up, with the exception of Wolf who only looked mildly amused. Alex turned back to his own tray, never even hungry. An entire ration of dinner found itself in the trash can. He had half a mind to walk out of there and catch some shut-eye, but there was still one crucial event he had yet to witness. He turned and leaned against the door frame of the main doors and focused his attention on Eagle. In his mind, a countdown began.

_Three…_

Eagle stopped laughing long enough to swallow.

_Two…_

He turned back to his food as the surrounding men begged for another funny story.

_One._

Eagle dug his spoon into his tray of mush just as it exploded in his face. There was a stunned silence throughout the Mess Hall that lasted until Alex couldn't hold in the giggle bubbling up anymore. Fifty odd heads swiveled in his direction; all they saw was the double doors swinging closed.

He'd warned Eagle. Never underestimate Alex Rider.

…

Tom Harris was a reasonable teen, if there ever existed such a thing. He finished his homework, passed his classes, excelled in sports, and had a fairly popular friend group. There were two things that could cause Tom to become _un_reasonable:

1. His parents and their messy divorce.

2. Resident teenaged spy and almost-brother, Alex Rider.

When he had first read the article, he hadn't even registered it. After he was able to conquer his initial shock, he hadn't believed a single word it said. If he was ever sure of one thing in his life, it was that Alex Rider was not dead. He was not killed by some petty homicidal maniac the day he'd been shot in school, and the man who'd shot his best friend was not with the local law enforcement. He couldn't even be with the national law enforcement; Alex _was_ the national law enforcement as far as he was concerned.

Tom's refusal to believe Alex's death was written off by friends and family as denial. He became more and more distressed as more people tried to gently ease him into the "truth."

So, in a brief moment of irrationality, Tom had sought the truth.

He should've known he would receive nothing but deceit.

Tom waltzed across the expensive tile of the Royal and General Bank lobby, unbeknownst to him, the very same path Jack Starbright had taken just before she was shot and killed not but days before. The curious brunette receptionist leaned slightly over the counter to see him better; it was the same lady as that fateful night as well.

"Can I help you?" she politely enquired.

Tom nodded in what he hoped seemed a serious manner. "I would like to speak with a mister Blunt about an Alex Rider." He rested his hand palm down on the counter. The lady—"Charlotte" said her nametag—glanced at a computer screen behind the desk. Whatever was on it displeased the woman greatly if her facial expression was anything to go by.

"I'm sorry," she turned to Tom again, using a childish tone, "we don't have anyone by 'Blunt' working here."

Tom frowned. "I know what this place really is, lady. Just let me in."

Charlotte frowned too. Motioning for the guard at the door to come over, she spoke to Tom. "I'm sorry, Sir. You must be mistaken. This is a bank."

Tom took a breath to do more explaining, but the guard suddenly appeared behind him, stuffing his hand in the boy's mouth. Eyes widening and panic rising as his arms were pinned behind him; Tom struggled to break free from the man's almost impossibly unyielding grip, to no avail. The guard briskly walked him to a side door, and Tom found himself thrown into a blank hallway. Dazed and confused as to why he had been thrown _in_ instead of _out_ when they had so obviously wanted him gone, he stood dizzily.

Suddenly, his hands were snapped behind him into a pair of cold steel handcuffs.

"Tom Harris, you are under arrest for the murder of Jack Starbright and Alex Rider."

**. . . .**

**Authors Note:** Well, I can say that the title of this chapter officially sucks. Anyone who has a better one, PLEASE REVIEW WITH IT! I'll send you an invisible cookie for your troubles.

Regarding the rating thing I asked about in the last chapter, the lowest I got was a 6.5 and the highest I got was a 10 (from Albany! My most faithful reviewer! *Hugs*) I've heard you want more excitement and action. I don't blame you. ;) It's coming, just wait for the build-up to be over and for me to become more confident in my ability to write fight scenes.

Are you sure you people aren't staking out the computer to read this? I mean, I post the chapter and a few minutes later I get my first review! The same day I get all my five desired reviews. Not that I'm complaining.

Congrats to biblioholic who guessed the characters in the Obituary right!

Now, my goal this chapter: 7. I await anxiously.

**7 reviews children!**

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	7. Chapter 7: False Accusations

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 7: False Accusations**

"COME ON SISSIES! MY MOTHER CAN _WALK_ FASTER THAN YOU!"

Alex pushed his already sore legs to run faster. It had been three days since he first awoke on the hard SAS issued cot, and so far not much had changed since he'd last been here (as far as he could tell), the only exception being his Unit who seemed more nosey that usual.

Somewhere in the background, the Sergeant was still screaming at them to run faster. Alex had learned to tune it out and just focus on the morning dash around camp. He was fairly proud of himself, ever since they had been rudely awoken at 5:00 am (civilian time) with a deafening bugle call and started the morning "warm-ups," Alex had been able to stay near the front with a few of the stronger men.

Glancing over his shoulder, Alex smirked as the look of rage plastered on Wolf's face. Being shown up by a kid half his age probably wasn't on his list of things to accomplish. But Alex was enjoying every minute of doing just that.

Eventually, they reached the finishing point, the flagpole in the middle of camp. It was flying the Union Jack in the morning's freezing wind. Alex stopped running but kept pacing to slow his rapid heartbeat down gently as he caught his breath. Despite himself, Alex couldn't help but enjoy the fresh air of Wales, far from any civilization.

The rest of K-Unit reached the ending point a few minutes later and sat on the soggy ground, breathing hard.

"How does he do it?" Eagle panted, referring to Alex. "And he's _still_ walking!"

"So what? Cub's good at running. It's probably from his school's track and field."

Snake glanced at Wolf. "Well, we'll find out what _else_ his 'track and field' has taught him today." Today was Cub's Skills Assessment, as his unit, they were in charge of overseeing the ordeal. He started to stand up, not quite enjoying the feeling of soaked pants. "I'm sure it taught him how to snowboard down mountains on ironing boards. Just back off Wolf, give him a chance."

Skunk stood up too, facing Snake in a confrontational way. "Why have you been on his side lately, Snake? He's just a _brat!_" The rest of K-Unit had been wondering as well. Snake had been unusually welcoming to their unorthodox fifth member, going so far as to tell Wolf to back off.

Sadly, the medic shook his head. "I can't say."

"Aww! C'mon Snakie!" whined Eagle in an unsurprisingly immature way, "We hardly know anything about him!"

Snake opened his mouth to reply, but was saved the effort by the Sergeant yelling. "All right, babies! Breakfast!"

The ensuing rush for the Mess Hall separated K-Unit, in more ways than one.

…

Alex took his time to arrive at the Mess Hall. For the most elite of the British Army, it seemed the SAS men had yet to realize some things. A) They'd all receive the same amount of watered-down oatmeal. And B) The food wasn't really worth rushing for anyway. He'd been undercover in a prison once and the food there was ten times better. It was almost saddening.

As the Mess Hall came into sight, Alex noticed a black Jaguar with tinted windows drive smoothly into the compound and park outside the Sergeant's office. Curiously, Alex stopped to see what would happen while the last of the men filed into the Hall. The camp was all the way in Wales, there weren't usually any visitors. Nobody in their right mind would be up so early anyway. All the more reason to watch.

A tall, lean man with auburn hair slicked back with so much gel it gleamed in the early morning sun stepped stiffly out of the driver's door. He stood and glanced around, eyes hidden from sight behind dark sunglasses. Seemingly satisfied that no one was watching, he walked into the Sergeants office without so much as knocking.

Alex spat in the dust with disgust. He was invisible, that's what he was. Until, of course, he was facing down crazed maniacs with a Weapon of Mass Destruction in their hands. He wasn't even hiding, just standing near a tree.

Two minutes later, nothing had happened. Alex picked boredly at the tree trunk, almost wishing for the Scorpia assassins Blunt had mentioned to drop out of the sky, anything to break the monotony. Suddenly, the stiff man walked back out the front door and opened the back door of the car. He seemed to be ordering someone out. Who was this guy? There was an official and secretive air about him. MI6? It was likely. But then he'd be here for Alex, and so far, he hadn't shown any signs of tracking the boy down.

The man's face screwed in what looked like impatience and reached into the car, harshly jerking a figure back out. Slapping the (surprisingly short) person across the face, he snapped a handcuff on their right hand, and the other on his own left. The person turned, and Alex felt his face drain of color.

It was Tom. Tom Harris.

Breaking the cover of the tree shadow he had been standing in, he ran across the short stretch of grass to his only friend. "Tom!"

Tom lifted his head from where he had been staring at his shoes. He looked dazed, whether from the needless slap he had received earlier or something else, Alex didn't know. His crystal-blue eyes widened when he took in his friends appearance. Alex knew how strange he must look.

Last time he had attended Brecon Beacons, they hadn't any clothes for someone as small as Alex, so he just rolled up the sleeves of the littlest one they had. This time they had bothered to custom make him a few uniforms, he looked like a mini recruit. He was also a bit dirty; Alex hadn't been showering every day. Between classes, exercises, and the tutor MI6 had assigned him to help with his coursework, there wasn't much free time for hygiene.

After a few moments of awkwardness (in Alex's opinion), Tom jumped on him in a needy feeling hug.

"Alex!" he cried, much louder than needed. "Alex! I knew you were alive! I just knew it! I knew I didn't kill you! You're alive…"

Alex, stunned by his friends display, just let him sob into his shoulder. Tentatively, he hugged him back. "What are you talking about, Tom?"

Tom pulled away, wiping his eyes and nose with the long sleeve of the dark green jumpsuit he was wearing. It struck Alex as odd; he never remembered such strange clothing in Tom's wardrobe. "I'm sorry Alex." He began to apologize, speaking too fast for Alex to completely follow. "It's just that… your name was in the Obituaries and I knew you weren't dead… even though I saw the body… so I went to ask… and then I got arrested… and I had this fake psyche eval… they told me I was crazy, Alex! They said I killed you…! Then there was this bogus trial… they said I'd be serving time… but I get driven here instead…"

He stopped and sniffed loudly, eyes full of anguish. "I know why you hate MI6 now, Alex. All my friends and family think I'm some crazy murderer being shipped off to some mental facility for the criminally insane!"

Alex stared at his friend. No… it wasn't possible. They wouldn't…

_Wouldn't they?_ Alex heard himself asking the question in his head as if he'd get an answer. No, he wouldn't put it past MI6 to do something like this. They'd done it before, with Harry Bulman, the nosey journalist. But why had they done it to Tom?

"Alex?" Tom was worriedly grasping his unresponsive friends shoulder. Suddenly, he was jerked away by the man with the handcuffs. They had forgotten about him.

"Come on," the man growled, "let's get you settled." He began to drag Tom away by the cuffed hand. Tom still had some fight left in him though. He pulled back and quickly snatched Alex's wrist. The trio began to cross the grass to the Mess Hall.

Alex had taken control of his surprise enough to see where they were headed. Inwardly, he groaned. He did not want to face the whole camp now. Yet, he allowed himself to be dragged through the double doors of the Hall, refusing to leave Tom alone with the MI6 man and less than trustworthy SAS recruits.

…

"For God's sake's Eagle! Just eat the food!"

Eagle stopped examining his bowl of watery oatmeal long enough to send a wary glance at Skunk. "The last time I did that it blew up in my face."

Skunk shrugged irritably. "Well it hasn't done that for three whole days now, so eat before I make you. You're starting to irritate me."

Scowling, Eagle quickly dunked a dented metal spoon into his bowl and then threw himself away from his chair. Snake glanced amusedly at the man cowering on the floor. "You know, even if it did explode, it'd just get porridge all over your shirt and face like last time."

Eagle sheepishly got off the floor and sat himself down again. After he began eating, the unit settled into a slightly uncomfortable silence. Nobody but perhaps Eagle had forgiven Snake from withholding information from them. So, many meals in the near future would be spent like this if nothing was done.

The general low chatter of the Mess Hall was broken when the double doors banged open. Again, an odd fifty heads swiveled to watch the strange trio that marched in. Striding in the lead was an officious looking man in a black suit with dark sunglasses, cuffed to his wrist and apparently being dragged along was the wrist of a black haired boy looking roughly around Cub's age in a full-body green jumpsuit. Behind those two, hand clasped by the other boy, measured steps pounding the poor cement floor, was Cub.

He made it blatantly clear he would not make eye contact or look away from the man dragging the two of them along. Wolf started at the amount of malice and rage in Cub's expression alone. His body was stiff, as if restraining himself from attacking the sunglasses-man on the spot. The other boy looked helplessly around himself at the curious expressions of the SAS men, anxiously gripping Cub's hand harder than before. Cub didn't try to loosen it.

Then they disappeared through the kitchen door. The moment they were out of sight, like a dam breaking conversation erupted in a loud roar.

"Did you see that?"

"Another kid!"

"What's he doing here?"

"What was with Cub?"

"The kid was cuffed!"

"That guy in front looked like an Agent…"

Wolf ripped his gaze from the kitchen doors to join the conversation his unit had started.

"Great, more we don't know about Cub," groaned Eagle.

Skunk sneered. "I'm sure Snake could tell us."

Snake shook his head. "I don't know what that was all about…"

"It doesn't matter," Wolf cut in. He didn't like how Cub's presence in the camp was tearing his team apart. They'd had it bad enough after the failed hostage situation, they didn't need this. He'd give the brat a piece of his mind the next chance he got. "It doesn't matter," he repeated, "not our problem. And if you make it your problem, it better not affect our teamwork!" he pounded his fist on the table, hoping he got the point across.

His unit was silent for a few seconds, in varying degrees of thought (sans Eagle, who never really _thought_). Then, Snake broke the silence, voice conveying guilt. "I'm sorry guys; I _really_ want to tell you about Cub. But I can't."

"Well, why not?" Skunk demanded.

Snake sighed. "You need the highest clearance just to know who he works for; the kid is outside the law!" His face contorted in anger, "It's really disgusting…" he muttered. Then, he glanced at Wolf. "It's almost better that you don't know." Nobody missed to reference to Wolf's still unmanageable anger issues.

Sighing and rubbing his face. Snake stood with his now empty oatmeal bowl. "I know a lot about him because I requested his medical file before he came. Most of it was blacked out, but what wasn't," he growled, "what wasn't just made me want to punch those idiots."

Nobody but Snake could guess who "those idiots" were. But either way, as they watched Snake turn in his dirty dishes to the kitchen, the small amount of information they had gleaned from him only made them all the more curious.

Everyone was looking forward to Cub's Skills Assessment today.

**. . . .**

**Authors Note: **More filler, if you ask me. *Bleh* But what is it with you people? Replying so fast!

Personally, I didn't like how I wrote this chapter. I feel like I give you one good chapter (Chapter 4) and the rest I spit out is poop. :( Either way…

**10 Reviews this time (since you all reply so darn fast! Give me time!)**

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	8. Chapter 8: Let the Tears Fall

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 8: Let the Tears Fall**

**Warning: **Tom has a bit of a potty mouth this chapter.

"Here," the MI6 man shoved Tom towards the expectant cook, "take him."

Tom stumbled forward and caught himself before he ran into the cook. Glancing up, he felt his bravery curl up and hide deep inside himself. The cook didn't look like a man to mess with. He was fairly large, with enough muscle to outweigh his fat. Lightly tanned skin from head to toe suggested he didn't spend his entire time in the kitchens. Dirt-brown hair in an unmistakable buzz-cut sat atop his head, while his auburn eyes sized up the boy before him.

Tom could feel Alex's penetrating gaze burning into his back. His legs felt like jelly, why was the attention of these lethal people focused on him?

"You," the cook addressed Tom in a firm voice, "what's your name?"

"Tom… Sir." Tom hesitantly added the "sir." Standing straighter, he sorely wished he was dreaming and would wake up now. If all Alex's stories about this place were true, his stay here would amount to be the worst days of his life.

The cook shook his head. "Now, your name is Pup."

Behind Tom, Alex growled in silent antagonism. He did not want Tom to be subjected to the SAS lifestyle. Tom was supposed to be separate from his "spy-life." So much for that.

Tom nodded to show he had heard. The cook began to explain, "You will call me Cook. I hear you're serving time, yeah?" When Tom nodded, the cook continued, "You'll be working in here with me since you aren't here for training purposes. Today I'll show you how to do everything, but after that you're on your own. Hear me?"

"Yes sir." Tom replied a bit meekly.

Cook nodded. "Right, now that's all settled…" he turned to Alex and the MI6 man. "You can leave," this was directed in a biting voice to the man, "and you," the cook faced Alex, "I see that you're friends. He can visit for one hour at the end of every day before bed and after wash-up."

The MI6 man just frowned and left, and Alex gave a sharp nod, also frowning. As the cook pulled Tom away to explain how to wash the dishes, he sent a nervous glance back at Alex, who returned it with an encouraging one. Tom turned to watch Cook demonstrate how the sink was used, thinking, _at least I'm not alone here._

…

When K-Unit returned to the hut after breakfast, they found Cub sitting on the edge of his cot, muttering things that seemed to make no sense.

"Of course they would… why wouldn't they… Gonna' go over there and strangle Blunt… better have a good explanation… probably don't… after all I've done… go and drag him into it… already had it bad enough…"

Snake slowly approached Cub. "Cub? Are you okay?"

Suddenly, Cub looked at them all, eyes dark. "Am I alright?" he laughed sardonically, startling his unit. "I can't even remember the last time someone asked me that. Why would you care anyway?" he glared at Snake.

Not waiting for a reply, he kept talking. "If you must know, I'd say no. Why?" Cub glared bitingly into the opposite corner of the hut, everyone turned to see as well and were surprised to find the sunglasses-man from the Mess Hall standing there. "Why?" Cub repeated, still glaring, "I probably can't say."

He stood and advanced on the man. "Will you be here all day?" he fumed.

The man calmly looked down his nose at the livid boy. "I am merely here to remind you of your position, Agent Rider."

Wolf twitched in surprise; did he hear the man say _Agent_ Rider? He glanced at Eagle, who met his eyes. Eagle had said MI6 had called Cub an Agent, but they had assumed it had just been to throw Eagle off as to who he was really retrieving. _So if Cub was an Agent…_

Wolf scrunched his brow in uncertainty, _he wouldn't care… right?_

Whether or not he wanted to admit it, ever since his mission at Point Blanc, Wolf's respect for the kid had grown exponentially. During Cub's first time in Brecon Beacons he had kept up well, even when some of the grown and qualified men had trouble, then he had saved Wolf's career by pushing him out of the plane. But he still wasn't ready for some kid of a richy-rich to be accepted into his unit and as far as the SAS man was concerned, he never would be.

…

Alex was in a right bad mood. After a few seconds of pondering, he had realized why Tom was here. It was just blackmail as usual. MI6 went and destroyed Tom's life to show Alex that they were in control and that there was nothing he could do. It wasn't enough that they held the trigger on Jack's visa, they had needed more, always more.

They had made sure the teen superspy was well under their thumb.

Alex almost felt relieved he wasn't close to anyone else; they were running out of people to persuade him with. Then he felt cold anger bubble to the surface. He shouldn't feel relieved that he had so few personal relationships, it was sick. No matter what he could do, who he was, or what he had done, Alex was willing to admit he was a kid, a fifteen year old kid! And he couldn't even act like one.

In Brecon Beacons, he felt safer. Surrounded by the most elite of the armed forces, it would be disappointing if he didn't. But he only felt marginally less exposed. Here, at least, he didn't have to check his locker for bombs every morning and afternoon, he didn't have to scan the house for bugs, or glance over his shoulder for tails. He didn't have to feel the adrenaline spike from the sound of the phone ringing, or the relief when he answered it to find it wasn't MI6 calling him off on another crazy mission.

Then there was the fact he almost _liked_ it here. Wolf hated him, and as if that weren't enough, he was regularly bullied by almost everyone for being a kid in an adult's world, and he himself wouldn't do anything to stop it. It was good to be reminded he didn't belong here, because he didn't—and wouldn't—ever accept that possibility.

Then there was Jack. He hadn't heard from her yet, they said they had shipped her off to America. Mail was allowed in the camp and Alex would have expected her to have written by now, something fishy was going on. Although MI6 could be filtering his mail…

Alex felt his fist clench in anger, nails digging harshly into his palms, it always lead back to MI6! Because John and Ian Rider had become involved in Britain's Secret Services they both had been killed. Because Ian had been killed MI6 had recruited him. Because MI6 had recruited him his life had slowly fallen apart.

It began with Sayle and his Stormbreaker computers. The mission had been emotionally and physically traumatizing, but in some obscure part of his mind he had enjoyed the rush of adrenaline and action. After he returned back to Jack with a few bumps and bruises, they had promptly labeled the topic "taboo," and tried to completely forget about it.

But it didn't stop after that, he was just too good at what he hated, and MI6 had come back for more. Each mission, another part of him was bitten off and torn to shreds. Jack and Tom had tried their best to help; Jack hugged him in the night after nightmares while whispering reassurances even as Tom provided him with a metaphorical whiteboard to bounce his woes off of.

Alex loathed himself for being dependant. That was a sick thought as well, because teenagers are supposed to be dependant.

Sometimes, Alex would glance down at his hands and see the blood that would never wash off. The blood of all those he had killed, good and bad, because he just couldn't say "no." Alex did that now and saw the blood, though it was all his own.

Dropping his hands to his sides, Alex squeezed his eyes shut, intense misery washing over him all of a sudden. He was tired, just tired of it all. Feeling the uncaring gaze of the MI6 man, the curious glances of K-Unit, and the somewhat heated glare of Wolf, Alex realized no one in the world really knew him anymore. He saw life through a paradigm nobody else shared, and for those who didn't understand it (which was everyone) he would come across as antisocial, paranoid, or just plain stuck-up, like Wolf's opinion.

"Just…" he muttered as he turned to the door, knowing he had the attention of the whole cabin on him, the fringe of his hair falling over his haunted russet eyes, "just, leave me alone… for once."

With that, he left. He meant for more than just K-Unit and the man to leave him be, he wanted MI6 and their secret world of espionage to leave him in peace as a whole. He wanted nothing to do with them, their non-existent morals, personal vendettas, or plans to rule the world. He wanted to be normal, to worry about homework and friends, not assassins and WOMD's.*

But then again, it was never about what he wanted.

Alex found his feet carrying him across camp and soon the rear end of the Mess Hall was in sight. Reaching the back wall and staring at the slate-gray surface blankly, Alex couldn't help but reminisce how much gray had to do with his life.

Blunt was gray, Alan Blunt. Alex couldn't help but wonder who ripped his heart out.

His life was gray; he used to see things as black and white, good and evil. But then MI6 came and upset that whole vision too, they were supposedly the good guys, but used the same if not worse tactics than the antagonists of the world—like blackmailing little kids into doing their dirty work.

Silver was gray, silver scorpions.

Alex shivered as a sudden cold breeze raised goose bumps on his arms, and soon his back was sliding down the wall until he was sitting at its base. He stared blankly up at the quickly darkening sky as a storm loomed in, contemplating his earlier thought. Scorpia had been the nail in the coffin, they had been the most personal of all criminals, because they were the only criminals he had opposed with ties to "what-could-have-been."

And now Scorpia was back for more.

Alex hugged his knees to his chest and planted his head in his arms. Everything had gone so horribly _wrong_ with his life! And he was helpless to stop more from coming. Now not only had his own life been ruined, he was ruining the lives of others.

"It's okay, Tom." Alex called, voice soft with emotion. He had known that Tom had been watching him for some time now but just couldn't summon the strength to care. "You can come out."

The soft _click-clack_ of combat boots stomping through half dried mud signaled his friends advance. Tom seated himself next to his angsty friend, giving him a sidelong glance. He leaned his head against the cement wall of the Mess Hall and gazed up at the stormy sky.

"You know, Alex… it's okay to cry."

Alex, who had been trying to hold tears in, felt one leak through. Quickly, his head rose and he wiped it away, confronting his best-mate.

"No Tom," he corrected him, "it's not. If I cry, I'm weak, and I can't afford to be weak. Not in this world."

Tom turned to face his friend. "Can you?" he asked earnestly, "I think you've earned it, after all you've done. And putting all that aside, you're a kid, Alex. And kids cry."

Tom gifted his friend with a hug. "When I saw your name in the Obituaries, I cried, Alex. I knew you weren't dead, but if MI6 was going as far as saying you had died, I knew things were getting worse. I was scared.

"And then I went to your pre-funeral, and I saw the body, but I still knew you weren't dead, Alex. I could feel it in my gut."

Alex felt his throat closing up and his eyes stinging to cry. What if Tom was right and he really did deserve a moment of weakness? Another tear fell unbidden down his face as he leaned into Tom's hug a little more.

"I'm sorry, Tom," he sobbed, finally releasing the two years worth floodtide of saline tears, "I shouldn't have gotten you dragged into all this."

Tom shook his head, brushing off the apology, allowing his friend some momentary comfort. "It's my fault, really. I went to MI6 to ask why they had 'killed' you and they shipped me off here. I was being stupid, I should have had more faith in you, you superspy you." He grinned, attempting to cheer his friend up.

Alex sniffled, smiled slightly at his friend's antics and pulled out of the hug, wiping away his tears. "I knew your idiot-ness would be the end of you."

Tom playfully swatted at his friend, grinning widely. "Hey! You weren't supposed to agree to that!"

Alex's spirits were effectively lifted. It felt as though twenty pounds had fallen from his shoulders. "I don't deserve a friend like you."

Tom stood. "The queen isn't good enough for the hunk of awesomeness standing before you, so don't worry about it."

Now Alex really smiled. It was cruelly wiped off his face the moment his arm was harshly grabbed by someone behind him. On instinct, he jumped up and tried to twist out of the grip, failing horribly in the much stronger persons grasp. In the end, he ended up in a defensive stance, facing his attacker and covering the shocked Tom's front.

Alex sighed in relief when he recognized the man holding his arm, it was just Wolf. He dropped the stance, instantly throwing his briefly inactive mental barriers up. The signature emotionless mask melted over his face, and his voice betrayed nothing. "Wolf."

The SAS man took one look at the boy's tearstained face and sneered. "Aw… couldn't take it anymore, huh? Sad your _daddy_ won't visit you?"

Alex was all for ignoring Wolf's petty bullying routine, but surprisingly, someone stood up for him.

Tom appeared from behind Alex and furiously ripped his friends arm out of the man's grip. Then he faced Wolf, dwarfed by the bigger man but no less intimidated. Chest puffed out, Tom launched into a heated tirade. "You know, Wolf, I won't stand for it anymore! You leave Alex alone! He's been to _hell_ and back and I'm not talking about Brecon Beacons! Your sorry arse really needs a whopping if you haven't got down on your knees and worshipped him! I can't even count on my fingers the number of times he's saved you and all the ungrateful bullies in this camp!"

He spat viciously on the ground at the stunned Wolf's feet. He would've continued had the MI6 man not come up behind Wolf carrying a threat.

"Mister Harris," the man's menacing voice cut through the almost visibly tense air like a knife through warm butter, "might I remind you of the promise you made when you signed the Official Secrets Act."

Tom rounded on the stoic man. "And you!" he growled. "You people are sick! Using a kid to—"

"Must I forcibly silence you, Mister Harris." The man held a strip of thick cloth in the air; clearly he had nothing against gagging children.

Outraged, Tom kicked some dirt in his direction, then turned and walked back to the kitchens, hands stuffed in pockets, head down in defeat.

"Now that that's over," the MI6 man glanced at his watch, "I will need to report back soon."

"Agent Rider," he stuck out a hand, "it was a pleasure to meet you."

Having regained his composure, Alex ignored the hand, staring coldly instead into the man's sunglasses. "_Unfortunately_, the same can't be said for me." He countered, twisting the first word to sound derogatory.

The MI6 man simply stood, nodded, and left. Wolf found himself staring at Cub again. So he did know the new kid, and knew him enough to cry in front of him. The most emotion he had seen on the kid's face since his first day back was surprise and the occasional cocky smirk he hated. For all the mystery that was Cub, one thing was apparent: if they were talking about the Official Secrets Act, they almost certainly weren't here for any adventure camp.

**. . . .**

**Authors Note: **Because I have nothing better to do and it's a snow day.

*WOMD means Weapon of Mass Destruction.

Well, don't stone me, I know I'm bad at writing angst or anything closely related to it. BTW, must I remind you? As it says on my profile, _I don't write yoai!_ Get yer' heads out of the gutter!

Thank you ReillyScarecrowRocks for your funny review last chapter, I know it made me laugh.

Since only 14 people have this on alert, and I requested ten reviews last time, I'll lower it to seven again.

**7 Reviews!**


	9. Chapter 9: Serpentes

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 9: **_**Serpentes**_

_Somewhere in Ipswich, one day prior to Tom's arrival in Brecon Beacons…_

"Wales? You know I don't operate out there, man." An olive skinned man with long black dreadlocks sat comfortably in the half-light of sunset, his Jamaican-accented voice carrying softly through the alleyway. His dark brown eyes flitted between the man before him and the shadowy corner where he knew the man's partner stood.

An Aquarian stood before him—Betta to be exact—a ruthless negotiator and senior operator. He was a bald man who preferred the fact not be mentioned and possessed a heavily muscled body. His protégé Alfonsio had tagged along as reassurance… and intimidation.

Betta paced slowly around his spot, hands clasped behind his back. "Asp," he addressed the man, "it doesn't matter whether you work out there or not." He stopped pacing and stared the man straight on. His hazel eyes held a hard, dead quality that made Asp involuntarily shiver. As much as he hated to admit it, their intimidation methods were much too effective.

Betta held out a briefcase. "Take it." He commanded Asp, eyes never leaving the Jamaicans face.

Hesitantly, the dark-skinned man accepted the briefcase, half expecting it to blow up the moment he touched it. You never knew with Aquarius. Glancing nervously between the unmoved men again, Asp crouched on the ground and clicked off the briefcase's locks. His eyes widened at the amount of bills he saw inside.

"How much?" he asked in a hushed voice betraying his excitement. From his feet was a long drawn out hiss that raised his hairs.

Betta smirked condescendingly at the pathetic excuse for a man before him. "Three-point-six-nine-eight billion pounds," he answered. (Six billion dollars all you Americans out there!)

Asp glanced up at the man, look obviously conveying "how do you afford to give all this up?" Betta let nothing show on his face. It didn't matter what they bribed the man with, all the bills were forged anyway. Unholstering a gun, Betta lovingly caressed it in his hands.

"You will be rewarded greatly if you succeed, Asp." He swung the gun around and tightened his finger on the trigger suggestively. "If not," he mimed shooting him, "you know the consequences."

…

_Present day…_

Alex stared horrified at the door of the shooting range. The sounds of shots missing targets and the curses of the men who missed reached his ears and the entire area reeked of gunpowder. K-Unit had been so genius to decide to do the Practicals first, Mentals second, and Physicals third.

Upon receiving Alex's confused look earlier, Snake had explained what they meant. "Practicals are things like shooting and strategizing skills since they don't really involve any strenuous activity. Mentals are things like personality exams and IQ testing. And Physicals are things like hand-to-hand combat, survival skills and that sort of thing."

Snake nodded to himself, glad he could still remember. "Skunk is in charge of the Practicals, I the Mentals, and Wolf the Physicals."

Alex had rolled his eyes at the latter statement, of course Wolf was in charge of the Physicals, he excelled in that sort of thing, even if he was the Unit's negotiator. It was a wonder that he had been chosen for that position when he so obviously had his issues with anger and a generally aggressive nature.

"What is Eagle in charge of?" Alex wondered aloud.

Snake cracked an amused grin. "Nothing," he replied, "the Sergeant didn't trust him with anything more than a pencil, and even then someone almost lost an eye."

Shaking out of his daze, Alex dashed for the cover of the shooting range as the freezing rain poured harder. Skunk met him in the threshold, instantly taking charge as K-Unit sat in the observation room, no doubt reinforced with bulletproof glass.

"Alright, Cub," he growled, not even glancing his way, "This is how it will work, I bring you to the shed, you dismantle as many guns as you know and put them back together. No guessing! Sergeant doesn't want to order new equipment just because some kid wanted to play soldier." He gestured to the shed. "What're you waiting for? The light? Go!"

Alex let himself into the shed and glanced in amazement around him. They had everything from the lightest handgun to the largest firearm. A bit overwhelmed, Alex jumped as Skunk appeared behind him. "Don't just stare! You have to be able to take at least one apart, you were here before!"

Settling his mind on a familiar Browning Auto-5, Alex set at dismantling the military firearm. "Last time I was here I wasn't allowed to touch any type of gun, Skunk." He informed the man.

He frowned. "Then how do you know how to take that apart?"

Alex, mentally cursing himself for not being so subtle in the fact it was easy to dismantle the gun, replied, "My uncle taught me." More lies, even if it was something like this, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Skunk smirked, leaning against the doorframe to watch the men in the shooting range instead of paying attention to Alex's progress. "That's some uncle."

Alex nodded, not bothering to reply. He was captivated by the comforting feeling of having a gun in his hand. The Browning was already reassembled, he moved onto another. Mechanical motions and gentle hands made quick work of the shed. One hour later, Alex tapped Skunk on the shoulder. The man jumped, seemingly forgotten about Alex.

"I'm done."

Skunk noticed a pile of six guns in the corner and nodded. "You could do six?"

Alex raised an eyebrow that clearly said "are you and idiot?" He pointed to a pile in the other corner of the shed which contained every gun but the six. "I could only put thirty together; I wasn't familiar with those six."

Skunks jaw dropped and he looked the kid up and down, searching for a nervous twitch, anything to betray his lie. "You're lying."

Alex shook his head. "No, I'm not. And if you still don't believe me, there's a camera in the corner, I'm sure if you asked the Sergeant you could see the tapes."

Working his jaw, Skunk motioned the teen outside. "Whatever, shooting targets now. We'll deal with that later." His tone was harsh, he hadn't known there was a camera in the shed, he didn't like getting shown up by a kid.

Alex found a C8 Carbine shoved into his arms. "If you even glance the target with this, you pass this model, got it?" After Alex's nod, he handed over a pair of earmuffs. "Do I need to show you how to use it?"

Alex almost laughed; he could probably show Skunk a thing or two about the gun. "Nope." He turned his back on the slightly disgruntled man and closed his eyes to calm himself, slowing his heartbeat and breath. Loading his five rounds, Alex hefted the gun up and aimed. The familiar sensation of his blank mind and body tuned perfectly with a gun pervaded Alex's consciousness.

Deep breath, eyes closed, heart beat. _The gun is no longer a weapon; it is a part of you. A mere extension of your arm. The bullets want to meet that red dot and when you press that trigger that's exactly what they'll do._

Very detachedly, Alex felt his finger pull the trigger.

One, two, three, four, five.

In a few short seconds, the rounds were emptied from the Carbine; each shot jolting Alex who stayed firmly in place. His Scorpia instructor would be proud. The sound of the shots was muffled by his earmuffs, but Alex could still hear the resounding _bang! _

Skunk walked over, his stench flowing over the young spy before he even saw the man, and yanked the Carbine out of his gasp, handing him a new gun.

_The targets are being reset,_ he mouthed, knowing Alex couldn't hear him around the earmuffs, _we're going to shoot as many guns as you know how._

Three hours later, Alex had shot a total of 155 rounds and was understandably jittery from the harsh kick of the machines. A shocked looking K-Unit had bundled out of the observation room, Alex's scores in hand, and shunted him out of the shooting range and towards the car-park. Earlier there had been a cold rain outside, now it had evolved into a hailstorm. Bullets of ice rained down on Brecon Beacons, seemingly intent on blowing the camp apart. For a fleeting moment as he ran through the storm, Alex wondered if this was what war was like. Hopefully he'd never find out.

K-Unit tested him in driving, piloting (in a simulator thank god, turns out he was horrible at steering any type of aircraft), archery, and other things. Then they moved on to the Mentals.

The Mentals turned out to be boring, a lot like standardized testing at school. Pencil, paper, wracking his brain. The whole time Snake watched with a hawk-like eye. After the testing, there were psyche evals of all kinds, telling Snake what a blot on an ink of paper looked like, what he thought of some words, etc…

Dinner came after the Mentals were complete. Snake released the restless yet spent boy from the offices in the infirmary to eat while he filed the tests away, he'd join the rest of K-Unit at the Mess later. Alex trudged across camp, approaching the Mess in loathe of the mush he was to eat. Tom was here now, perhaps… perhaps dinner wouldn't be too bad.

Brightening at the prospect of seeing a friendly face among the masses of those he associated with his life's woes, he quickened his pace. Suddenly, something whished through the air and buried itself at his feet. Alex halted abruptly, searching the grass below him with his eyes. Funny, he didn't see anything…

He stayed a few seconds more as an extra precaution, straining his ears to hear anything more. When nothing happened, he shrugged it off as his ever-present paranoia and continued his walk to the Mess Hall.

…

"You goddam idiot!" A sound like a pole slapping a piece of meat echoed through the woods surrounding Brecon Beacons, not far from Alex's last position. "You almost gave us away!"

A notably stout dark skinned man wearing a pitch black ski-hat and eye-patch, and combat clothing tenderly rubbed his throbbing cheek. "What was that for? Dace!"

The one who had slapped him, a tan man of average height, also wearing a combat suit, glared at him. "Your bad aim, Chub," he muttered.

Chub looked aghast, "_My_ bad aim? Who was it that put my eye out with the gun in Albania?"

Dace hurriedly shushed him. "That's all in the past, now we have to pull this off. You almost hit the boy last time, next try, aim for somewhere farther away." Sometimes it was good to have a dimwitted partner, they were too slow to claim glory at the end of a mission and mostly did what they were told because they thought you knew best, but with Chub, he was like a toddler on roller-skates in the way he handled things. Clumsy, loud, irritating…

Chub raised his gun and aimed for a spot further away from the blonde haired boy loping towards the middle of camp. Gripping the trigger, he asked a question. "So if we ace this assignment, we might get promoted?"

Dace nodded, gazing after the boy. _I wonder why Boss wants that kid gone so bad… and why is a kid here in the first place? _"We won't be bottom-feeders forever, Chub, just you wait," was the wistful reply.

There was a dull _thunk!_ from the spot where Chub had aimed. They had a special type of gun, not for shooting bullets but for shooting special transmitters into the ground from a distance. Something the ASP's invented. Dace and Chub were on an assignment, their first A level. If they cooperated with ASP and achieved the objective, they finally had their chance at a promotion within Aquarius.

Dace could see it now, a new partner, respect, money, the ladies… he was dragged out of his daydreaming by Chub.

"Looks like we're all done here." He puffed, standing on stiff legs. "We've been in this spot all day, this side of the camp should be covered."

Dace quickly stood. "Hey," he snapped, "who's in charge of this assignment?"

"You?"

"Correct." Dace arrogantly stuck his pale hooked nose into the air. "Well, we've been here all day, this half should be covered, let's change positions, it starts tonight."

"Right, smart idea, that." Chub replied stupidly, barely even noticing his partner had stolen the words right out of his mouth.

…

Alex arrived in the Mess, immediately drawing all gazes to him. Uneasily, he wondered if Skunk had been gossiping while he was away, Alex's insanely accurate shooting skills had shocked him after all. Along with the rest of K-Unit. Snake had been acting funny around him ever since the shooting range, not curious or surprised, more like pitying. Did he know something…?

As Alex reached the line, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning to view Wolf, he was addressed. "Since the day's pretty much up, Cub, you an' I'll have some quality time tomorrow during the Physicals." He harshly shoved the smaller teen into the wall, in a way that would seem playful to anyone but the person being pushed. "Eat up, cry-boy."

Then he strode off to the rest of his unit, pointedly taking the conspicuously vacant seat next to Snake and glaring at the rest of the unit in a way that said "grow up." Alex really wanted to give Wolf a piece of his mind, it's not like he wanted to be here! Oh, he'd enjoy the Physicals alright.

Wondering why K-Unit was acting so strange and restraining his anger, Alex peeled himself off the wall and snatched his food off the line. There was a surprised "Alex?" from someone behind the counters that separated the cafeteria from the kitchens, and Tom's face appeared. Flour was smudged across his face, and there were grease stains all over a pale apron he wore. The green jumpsuit still sagged off his frame, but he seemed a little happier since he had last seen his friend.

Taking one look at the poor excuse for food in Alex's hand, he snatched it away and rummaged behind himself for something. "I can't have you eating that," he intoned, "lemme' see. I had it here somewhere… Ah ha!" Triumphantly, he replaced the bowl of mush with a plate of toasted cheese sandwich, still steaming warm. It smelled deliciously like home, and Alex had to push down a wave of homesickness.

Taking the tepid plate in his hands, he smiled thankfully at Tom. "Thanks, Tom."

Tom waved it away. "No need, I've found I actually like cooking. And compared to what the people here can do, I'm pretty good at it." Then, he grinned deviously and held up a small bag of flour. "If you ever need some pranking material, you know where to find old Pup."

Alex didn't want to spoil his friends mood by telling him the harsh consequences of pranks (he would know, he had to _fix_ Wolf's bed after he decimated it that first day) so he just grinned and played along. "Right."

Dinner was spent quietly, a tense air hanging around the usually jovial K-Unit for reasons Alex couldn't discern, and Wolf kept shooting him dirty looks. But that wasn't new.

Alex left the Mess first, as usual, and took a quick shower before heading back to the hut. Collapsing into bed, he desperately hoped he wouldn't have any of his vivid nightmares tonight. Physicals would be physically exhausting, he needed all the sleep he could get.

Slowly, his body relaxed onto the mattress as his eyes slid shut, blissful rest closing its fist…

…

Tom hummed a little as he stirred the huge ladle in the mixture of tomorrow morning's oatmeal. Against the orders of Cook, he'd added less water and dumped some cinnamon into the breakfast food. They had jars and jars of the brown stuff but it seemed as though they never used it…

In the distance, a bell clanged, signaling his shift was over and he could do what he liked until it was bedtime. Abandoning the oatmeal after taking it off the stove (with some effort, that was a big pot!) he ran to the cabin he shared with the rest of the kitchen staff, shrugged out of his apron, splashed water on his face and dashed out the door, intent on finding Alex and speaking with him.

He had only arrived here today, but from what he saw, this camp brought the worst of Alex's emotional state into light. Behind the Mess Hall today, that Wolf guy… the list went on.

Scanning the signs above the cabin doors, Tom located K-Unit's just after J's. Hesitantly, he stood at the door, not sure if he should knock or go right in. Swallowing his doubt, he knocked then opened the door without waiting for an answer.

The hut was typical by SAS standards, two bunk beds, shelves, and hooks for their training guns. Excepting this cabin, there was a cot in the corner. Tom peered into the dark. He could just make out the shape of Alex lying on the cot, but the outline seemed distorted.

_Probably just the covers, _Tom reassured himself. Fingering the wall for the light switch, he found it and flicked it on. The bare bulb on the ceiling lighted immediately. Tom turned back to the corner.

"Hey Alex, I—" he inhaled sharply and froze. Soulless brown and black eyes stared back at Tom, a long body composed almost completely of muscle and covered in gleaming emerald scales stirred as the light washed over it. Sweat broke out on his body and he stopped breathing.

Alex slept peacefully on his cot, wrapped in a gigantic and dangerous looking jade snake.

**. . . .**

**Authors Note: **Ugh… I don't even want to look at this one. I just got over a massive writers block and looking over this chapter, eww. Just eww. I did horrible. :(

Anyway, sorry I made you wait so long, school, life, writers block… Enough excuses. I loved all your reviews last chapter, and even if I didn't reply to it, I still read and appreciated it. :)

**6 Reviews!**


	10. Chapter 10: Super Belt

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 10: Super Belt**

Tom stood frozen in the doorway, lungs clenching due to his negligence to breathe in his shock. What should he do? What should he do…? What should he do…?

He should wake Alex; he'd know what to do. He was the spy after all, he'd have a solution to save himself, Tom hoped so…

As Tom took another nervous step into the room, apparently mastering his paralyzed body, the snake seemed to sense him. Rearing its head, it gave and long, ominous hiss and tightened its grip on Alex. It was gigantic to say the least, perhaps sixteen feet long. Recalling a lesson in school, Tom remembered that serpents were mostly composed of powerful muscle and those that didn't posses highly toxic venom were perfectly capable of strangling their victims to death.

Tom sucked in his breath quickly and backed away from the serpentine threat. The boy in its grasp shifted slightly and mumbled something about Jack. All Tom could do was watch helplessly as it kept tightening its grip.

Why wasn't Alex waking up? He usually had nightmares all the time and was generally a light sleeper. If he awoke screaming during one of his terrifying dreams while the snake was still on him… Tom didn't even want to entertain the ghastly thought.

Abruptly, Tom turned on his heel, careful to do so slowly so as not to provoke the snake, and walked out the door. The moment he was on the steps however, his somewhat composed alarm crumbled and gave way to blind panic. Dashing down onto the ground and breaking in to a harried sprint over the mushy Welsh mud, he searched for somebody, _anybody_! Where was everyone?

Behind him and out of his sight, in J-Unit's cabin, one of the men appeared on the steps, dangling a small ruby, black, and gold striped snake by the tail in disgust.

"Not funny, guys!" he retorted to the laughter echoing behind him. The snake was carelessly thrown to the ground, where it immediately began to slither into the underbrush of the surrounding wood.

_Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod…! I've gotta' find somebody! _Tom was panting heavily, scuttling madly around camp, not meeting a single person. In desperation, he veered towards the bathrooms, hoping someone had to use the loo before they tucked in for the night.

Turns out he was in luck, if you put it in perspective.

The panicking boy slammed quite unexpectedly into the unyieldingly solid form of Wolf as he left the bathroom, startling the man as much as himself. To keep himself from falling, Tom clutched onto the surprised man's clothes as he gulped for air, clutching a stitch in his side.

Wolf scrutinized the black haired kid before him. Vaguely his mind registered him as the new one that a Suit had dumped on them. Again.

"Hey you're that…" he snapped his fingers, struggling to remember the boy's codename. "Pup!" he exclaimed. "You're the—"

"Snake..!" Tom interrupted when he was able to gasp coherently between his panicked breathing.

Wolf gathered his wits immediately, thinking Tom meant his teammate. "Why?" he snapped, shaking the kid off, "What's happened?"

Tom exhaustedly gestured in the general direction of K-Unit's hut. Leaving the boy without a second thought, Wolf hurried to their cabin, intent on finding out what was wrong with Snake. When he reached the hut, noticing the silence and lighted interior, he cautiously climbed the steps and peered inside.

"I swear, Eagle, if this is another of your pranks I'm gonna'—" he stopped talking the moment he discovered the problem however. Cub lay on his cot wrapped in the largest snake he had ever seen. His Snake was fine. Cub, however, was a different story.

Creeping into the cabin, the threatening hissing of the creature raised his hairs and made his skin crawl. He really wished the rest of his Unit weren't so slow at wash-up, he wasn't sure how to handle this without getting Cub crushed to death.

"Psst!" he hissed, two yards away from Cub's cot, the snake's unsettling bottomless eyes drawing his gaze as it stared unblinkingly at him, its tongue darting in and out, tasting him. "Cub!"

"_Hissssssssss!"_ the snake raised its ugly head threateningly and Wolf quickly backed away. But it seemed he had succeeded in awaking Cub, the sound of a quick intake of breath echoed across the room and the boy on the cot stirred slightly. Sensing the movement of its victim, the snake forgot about Wolf and tightened its coils even more.

…

Alex was walking through the park. Strolling leisurely along, not caring that it was midnight, and feeling free as a bird the teen spy had the momentary comfort of forgetting past events. Fresh earthy smells indicated spring, and the warm winds tousling his hair seemed to laugh with his delight.

A park bench was cast into light by a streetlamp on a nearby sidewalk. For some inexplicable reason, Alex stopped to watch it. Seated upon the bench was a woman, seemingly in her late twenties. Tangled carrot orange hair framed a round boyish face that was open and cheerful. She carried a large blue backpack and wore an olive colored travelling coat.

In that moment, Alex felt his breath squeezed out of him. It was Jack.

Forcing his legs to obey, previous attitude forgotten, he dashed to her side. All the memories and emotions he had been suppressing since her disappearance months ago rushed to the surface, and he felt hot salty tears of happiness well up behind his eyelids. Blinking them away, he faced his lifelong sister figure and smiled. He had found her at last! They could go home! Things could go back to normal! Well, as normal as the life of a teenaged spy could be.

"Jack…" He reached out to hug her, surprised when fast as a viper she slapped his hand away.

Jack turned her head to Alex, raging fire in her eyes to rival that of the hue of her hair. "Alex," she began, "see what you've done to me?"

Alex, confused and disbelieving, mutely shook his head. Jack gazed hatefully at him for a few seconds more before continuing.

"You've lost me." She stood in a challenging way, glaring down the button nose Alex knew so well at her charge. "You've lost me, and now I've got to go it alone, Alex.

"You should've said 'no.' You just can't say 'no!'" she threw down her backpack to punctuate the last word, he face contorting in righteous rage. "I wouldn't be doing this if you'd just let them send me away when your Ian died, let them send you to the orphanage! At the very least you could have prevented this whole mess!"

Alex gazed with stunned brown eyes at his guardian, his seemingly friend turned enemy. "Jack…"

A finger was thrust into his chest. "You'll never be 'Jack'-ing me again, Rider. Too many times I've been up at night waiting, too many times I've been in the dark and left worrying when you go on your little adventure trips, too many times I've been used! By you and your uncle."

She glowered down at him. "I don't even know you anymore. You used to be a schoolboy with a secluded uncle. Now," her countenance displayed intense distaste, an emotion that twisted Jack's features into that of an ugly gargoyle's. It wasn't an expression that suited her. "Now all I see is a murderer, a liar, and an outsider trying selfishly to fit in.

Jack glared through him, as though seeing every imperfection, every faded drop of blood, every false truth he'd ever uttered. Alex suddenly found he didn't possess the strength to stay standing and dropped his knees to the cold hard pavement. He knew he must look stupid, kneeling on the roadside bus stop, his mouth hanging open, staring at a woman at least a foot taller than himself in disbelief and hurt. But what others saw didn't matter to him, only what Jack glimpsed. And obviously what she witnessed was less than satisfactory.

With a deafening roar a large lighted night bus pulled along the curb and opened the doors. Jack turned on her heel from the blonde and slipped on the blue backpack she had dropped earlier. Stepping up to the bus, she didn't even glimpse back as she paid the driver and found a seat somewhere out of sight.

As the bus drove out of view, tears began pouring down Alex's cheeks. No longer were they tears of joy, but tears of hurt and betrayal. The only family sans Tom he had left had just ridiculed him then abandoned him on the dark sidewalk with metaphorical salt festering in his wounds.

He couldn't deny anything she had said, because it was true wasn't it?

He couldn't stop Jack, it was her choice, and it was better this way too wasn't it?

Crouched on the sidewalk, saline water trickling from his eyes like a leaky faucet that no-one had bothered to fix, Alex allowed himself to cry. The world quieted, as though sharing his grief. The sorrow of all those who had died, those who had left, those who ignored, those who oppressed, and those whom he had tainted with his legacy.

Still, his chest painfully clenched the breath from his lungs.

Through his anguished choking sobs, he heard someone. _Cub_, they said. _Cub_…

Suddenly, Alex remembered. He was at Brecon Beacons, Jack was missing, Tom was there. And he, he was asleep on his hard cot in the hut. This was a dream. With this revelation, he realized his chest was being crushed, he hadn't been imagining that part of the dream.

Alex's eyes snapped open to be greeted with the sight of a peeling wooden wall. Never before had he been so glad that Brecon Beacons was reality. Jack hadn't really said all those things, it was just another nightmare.

The teen took stock of the situation, something like a thick rope was wrapped around him and slowly crushing his lungs and throat. How could he not have noticed that before? He must've been really tired to sleep so heavily. Especially if he could still have a nightmare.

The lights were on, which meant that someone was or recently had been there. Hopefully for them they were allies. Alex didn't feel like fighting after his latest nightmare.

But first, the bonds. Slowly as he could, Alex's hand inched for the belt of his combat trousers. With every move the entrapments became tighter and tighter, until Alex was sure they'd break his ribs. Even as that thought occurred, a sickening splintering noise echoed around the hut, and a gasp could be heard from behind him, somewhere near the door. Pain shot around Alex's torso and a warm liquid—most likely his own blood—began to seep from the epicenter of agony in his side.

With a last surge of strength, Alex grabbed the plastic buckle and ripped it out of the belt. Attached to one side of the buckle was a three inch razor sharp plastic blade, undetectable in airports (or anywhere else for that matter) yet a deadly backup weapon when needed. He had first had a copy of this belt during his Snakehead mission, but due to his traitorous godfather Ash, had never been able to use it. Wielding the miniature dagger with admirable strength, he struck out and up along his body and cut through four loops of the thing binding him.

Warm, sticky, and foul tasting liquid gushed out of the thing, and as Alex leapt up and away from what had been holding him captive, he finally saw what it was. A gigantic green snake went through its final death throes on the floor of K-Units hut, hacked into several neat pieces with Alex's knife. Then, it abruptly stilled.

Silence gripped the hut for a few seconds, then there was a low whistle from the door. Alex glanced that way and saw Wolf staring from him to the snake and back again, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The thought made a smile break out on Alex's face, a totally inappropriate expression considering the situation.

Wolf turned uncertainly to his fellow Unit-mate. Alex's smile was creepy at the least. The teen was covered in blood, holding a wet knife, and smiling like a madman. To anyone it would have seemed a little… uncertain.

"You okay Cub?"

Alex looked down at himself and felt his world sway suddenly as he began gasping for breath to feed his oxygen deprived lungs and quell the pain from his obviously broken rib. Strong arms caught him before he could taste floorboard, and he looked up to see Wolf holding him upright with a concerned look on his face.

Shouldering his support away, Alex replied. "Fine."

Tom appeared in the doorway, recovered from his mad dash around camp and worried about his friend. The moment he witnessed the gore lying on the floor from the snake, and Alex covered in blood, he paled considerably.

"Oh, Alex," he said, as though conversing about the weather. Then he fell backwards down the steps in a clean faint.

**. . . .**

**Authors Note: **This one's a bit longer than usual, and more poop if you ask me. Either way, here's your update.

K-Unit find out more about Alex soon, and coming up (eventually…) we learn the whole story of Jack's disappearance. *Wiggles eyebrows*

Tell me if there are any grammar mistakes or typos, I was half asleep when I wrote this. Been home sick all day.

Enjoy! I loved all your reviews last chapter, especially yours RealGirlsHaveCurves!

**6 Reviews!**


	11. Chapter 11: Calm Before the Storm

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 11: Calm Before the Storm**

The clear day was drawing to a close. The sun had long since abandoned its zenith and now it clung to the horizon, a painting of warm scarlet and yellow tones. Shadows had grown long by now, and the more shady inhabitants of New York at sundown had taken to the streets.

Neon signs flashed at irregular intervals, advertising bars, illegal dealerships, and countless other shifty businesses.

Mingling with the stinking crowd was a man. A brown fedora covered his head and eyes, and he stayed hunched within a high-collared jacket.

As he passed a brightly lit doorway, a skimpily clad woman gestured alluringly to him. But the man paid her no heed, for he was searching. Countless times his head turned, searching for a particular enterprise in the jumble of illicit shops. Frustrated, he grumbled when it seemed he'd never find it. An eye-catching neon sign came into his line of sight.

"The Rats Den," it boasted.

Crossing the street and weaving through drunkenly swaying patrons, he turned the handle of the bar and entered the joint. Low conversation, the strong scent of alcohol, wary glances, and an unwelcome atmosphere immediately assaulted his senses. The air was thick with the smoke of Cuban cigars, the lighting too low to see anything completely. This was where the rabble of society gathered to drown in drink and trade their illegal wares.

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust and found a booth next to a passionately kissing pair. Ordering two large beers, he settled down, waiting. Not but three minutes later, a pale skinned man made his way through the crowded bar and sat across the table, eyes fixed firmly on the fedora obscured face of the stranger.

"You Fox, yeah?" his Brookyln accent was pronounced as he nervously wrung his hands. In the half-light of The Rats Den it was near impossible to decipher his face, but his bright eyes flitted around the bar agitatedly.

Fox gave nothing but a nod in reply.

Quickly, the man began talking in his reedy voice. "You wanna' know Aquarius, yea?" Greedily, he slurped up the second beer Fox had ordered, the alcohol seeming to calm his nerves slightly. Thumping the mug back on the tabletop, he slipped his grubby hand across the table, practically under Fox's nose, and rubbed his fingers together, a sly look on his face. "I may know somthin'… for a price."

"Are you suggesting I cut your hand off?" Fox growled. He had not come to bargain with a criminal and he intended it to stay that way. He'd shoot the man if he had to, time was of the essence and if this venture proved to be a waste Fox would blow a fuse. Vaguely he registered the couple in the next booth increasing the intensity of their kiss.

The pale man quickly withdrew his hand, proclaiming in distress, "No! No sir! No…! I was only—!"

Audibly, a click sounding suspiciously like the safety leaving a gun reached the man's ears from under the table. The mysterious man opposite him meant business.

"Then start talking."

Fox's eyes were so fixated on the profusely sweating man before him that he hardly noticed as the two lovers stood from their booth and left, giggling like schoolgirls and leaning on each other for support.

"I know nothing!" the man's eyes were wide in terror and he had frozen to the spot, spilling his secrets now that the stakes had been raised. "But Shelah! Go to Paradise and ask for Shelah!"

Fox stood, having learned all he could from the criminal. The handgun was in the open now, but the few occupants of the bar who glanced their way dismissed it. One had to wonder how often something like this happened in this part of New York.

"Get outta' here," Fox snapped, making a show of gesturing to the door with his gun.

The pale man need not be told twice, and Fox last saw him high-tailing it through the crowd, whimpering like a kicked dog.

…

With some searching, Fox located Paradise, almost wishing he hadn't. It was a rats nest of gamblers and all manner of questionable people. He would've felt more comfortable surrounded by his enemies.

Sighing with heavy resignation, Fox strolled through the door as though he knew exactly where he was going. Paradise seemed a dilapidated movie theater from the outside, but indoors it was a whole different set up. Gambling machines lined the walls, their blinking lights struggling to be noticed in the dark, smoky atmosphere. Meagerly dressed women mingled with the guests, serving generous amounts of wine and beer. One of them latched onto his arm.

"What can we interest you in today, sir?" she giggled.

Fox shook her off uncomfortably. "I'm here to see Shelah."

Groans erupted around him. "Aw! Everyone always wants the Russian," one of them complained, and soon a few more had joined in the small crowd forming around him.

Nervously, Fox glanced back at the entrance. The couple from the bar wandered in, not even sparing him a glance.

Turning back to the group, he demanded, "Now."

Poutily, one of the women led him across the casino, through a hallway, and to a door labeled "007."

"She's in there," the woman stated simply before wandering off, presumably to find another more willing guest to play with.

Fox politely knocked.

"Come in," a woman's voice speaking perfect English with a slight Russian accent replied.

The lady inside wore a tight ruby dress. Aqua eyes set into her relatively flat face bored into Fox's forehead for all the world as if she were reading his thoughts. Precision cut black hair framed all this, halting in a straight line at chin height. Shelah ran her eyes hungrily across Fox's disguise.

"I didn't think I had anyone else today," she set aside the rose she had been examining, "but I guess I could—"

"I was told to come to you for information," Fox interrupted her, glancing around at the horribly insecure walls and door, "on Aquarius."

"Oh," her voice quieted, she too glancing at the door, as if fearing their words would be heard, "oh…"

She seated herself precariously on the edge of the blue futon dominating the space. A mirror hanging on the wall beside her reflected the closed look that came to her countenance upon mentioning the organization she hated. For a few moments of tense silence she searched the eyes of the man who had requested the information. Apparently, she saw what she was looking for, and relaxed. Slightly.

"I'm afraid what I am about to tell you could get me killed should it slip I told you," she began, "so I'm sure you know the importance of secrecy."

Fox nodded, slipping off his fedora and listening intently. "So Aquarius does exist?"

The Russian laughed lightly, coldly. "'Does it exist?' the boy asks. It runs the world from behind the scenes, the very name instills fear in the hearts of the most hardened criminals, over half the forged money around the world is manufactured by them. Does it exist? Yes, Aquarius is very real.

"I, and now you, are vone of the few people who know this organization exists. It is a fairy tale in the underworld, one of ruthless assassins, glory, power, and blood." She paused. "I cannot for sure tell you much about them, because although I know the most, I also know very little."

Fox frowned. "But can you tell me anything?"

Shelah nodded. "I know not their locations or operatives. I do know that vhen they aren't trying to disband Scorpia, they vork vith them. They vork in secret. Years ago they vere a key factor in the blood diamond trade in Africa before the failed revolution." She paused, her eyes searching Fox again.

"Unregrettably, I know nothing more. Now leave."

Fox pulled the fedora low over his eyes with a muttered "thank you," fully intending to exit the room that very moment, but he hesitated at the door. Something was nagging at his senses. Getting the information had been too easy.

He turned back to Shelah, whose eyes had been boring into the back of his head. "Why did you tell me all of that?"

Shelah grinned, a gleam in her eye. "Vhy, you ask? You're hotter than an oven in the midday Egyptian sun, that's why." Like water, she flowed over the floor until she was leaning against Fox's side. "Vhat say you? A night out, the two of us, alone… together…"

Fox sighed and shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but I have more important things to do." He awkwardly freed himself from the Russians grasp, and left.

Curiously, the rose Shelah had been toying with earlier emitted a tiny beep.

…

Alfonsio paced the length of the table. His brow was furrowed over an agitated face and clenched jaw.

"I'm tired of murdering low-profiles. I want to assassinate! That's what I am," he stopped and slapped his chest, "an assassin!"

His mentor, Betta, sat opposite him. Low recess lighting threw most of the room and its occupants into shadow, yet still found a way to gleam off the operative's bare skull.

"No," he stated firmly, his booming voice requiring little volume to be heard, "you are not ready, Alfonsio."

Said man threw up his hands. "Why?" he all but demanded. "You've trained me for five years now! You've said yourself that I'm Aquarius's most promising student yet, I'm even in The Boss's inner circle! So why do you always insist I tag along with other operatives on routine runs instead of giving me something worthy of my talents?"

Betta calmly met his pupil's eye.

"This is why," he stated, "you're too hot-headed, too rash. Alfonsio, your skills require honing, you need experience."

"Then give me experience! Let _me_ take care of the Rider boy!"

Sickly sweet laughter echoed from the other end of the mahogany conference table.

"Oh come now, 'Fonsi-boy. If anyone will be killing the little nuisance it will be my Boss-man."

The woman who spoke grinned like a predator, flashing immaculate white teeth. Her perfectly manicured nails topped the tips of her steepled fingers like the claws of a jungle cat. Dark brown hair was pulled away from her coffee-colored face in a loose bun and intelligent green's hid behind silver framed glasses.

Alfonsio plopped into his chair like a pouting child. Dr. Mya Angella's word was as final as her lover's command. One syllable against them and you'd soon find yourself brutally maimed. Despite her appearance, Dr. Angella would have more fun than strictly necessary ripping people limb from limb. She was a scientist by trade and would be fascinated by the rate your blood would gush out of the gashes, how your bones snapped, when your ligaments and muscles would tear, and how much pain your body could endure before it completely shut down. As the mountains on the heartbeat monitor became less and less, Dr. Angella would take scores of notes in her own sort of sick awe.

All in all, she was a pleasant woman if you weren't one of her lab rats.

Alfonsio brightened at the prospect of action. "Where?"

"Wales," she enlightened him, "the ASP's never really were a serious threat to anyone but politicians. We've had a feeling they'd fail. You, little Alfons', will finish the job."

**. . . .**

**Authors Note:** Now, before you take up your pitchforks and skewer me, hear me out. Actually… I have no excuse. ^^'

Either way, thanks for all the great reviews last chapter! Sorry if I didn't reply to them! In this chapter or the next things literally explode, so I guess it's a bit of a treat for us all.

**7 Reviews**


	12. Authors Note

**The Venus Contract**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

Authors Note

Hello readers, I would like to extend a heartfelt apology for not updating in several months. I will reassure you now, this is not the "authors note of doom," condemning this story to eternal discontinuity. I do, in fact, want to continue this fanfiction. It is my personal favorite, and the Alex Rider fandom is my all-time most productive yet.

A few things stand in the way of that goal.

A. I have little motivation

B. A new school year will soon demand my focus

C. I am my own worst critic

D. I need help

As much as I hate to admit it, I need another eye to help guide my story back to what I consider my "course par." Chapter Four of this story was "on par," everything after that is total crap, and I refuse to deliver such a product to my eager audience. I love my readers, the fact that they've stuck with me so long, that they give me honest critique, and that they were willing to read what I wrote at all. In short, I want a beta to help me complete this story, revise chapters, and plan out the plot.

Starting September, my school will begin and I can no longer afford to slack if I want to make it to college, so fewer chapters will be released. So for the few weeks I have left, I would like to find a beta willing to help with plot details, act as an editor, and provide me with honest help.

I'll admit, I've never been in a beta-author relationship before, so I know not what to expect, but I've read phenomenal fanfiction by authors with amazing beta's and I hope some day one could help me achieve my "course par."

Gahh, I think even this heartfelt note needs revising… ^^'

Beta's, please apply via PM, I'll love you for it.

Yours truly (and no, this story is not over),

~WarriorLoverInc


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